
This is an erotic, fast-paced thriller that starts off with a bang from page one. Rose is about ten years older than Nathan, which was one of the reasons why he's been off limits to her, but imagine her surprise when she learns he's desired her all along. Nathan is one sexy, dominant man, and his expert tutelage of Rose in the art of sex and bondage is thrilling to read... Run out and grab this one up!
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Combustible chemistry between the hero and heroine right from the start, deadly secrets in the background and lots of hot sex throughout. One Thing Leads to Another is explosive and makes you want more.
A spunky heroine like Rose is just what Nathan needs as he struggles with his torments and private hell. I laughed and cried with them from the first page until the last.
One Thing Leads To Another is now available from Loose Id.
MASLOW'S NEEDS
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\*
This book is rated:
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Maslow's Needs
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Loose Id LLC
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www.loose-id.com
Copyright © April 2005 by Sheri Gilmore
Excerpt of Desert Moon: Ah-ten copyright March 2005 by Alicia Sparks
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 1-59632-086-9
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Maryam Salim
Cover Artist: Jet Mykles
I would like to thank two very special men in New York City's goth community, who have helped me tremendously with my research into vampires, the goth lifestyle, and the occult in general.
First, John Coughlin, the Dark Wyccan. He is an author and collector of gothic/occult books and is considered to be a leader in the goth community. His websites and writings touch on various occult subjects, including the ethics of witchcraft. I consider John my first teacher in the occult and my friend. Thanks for being patient with me and my continuous flow of questions regarding the occult and gothic lifestyle. Thanks, especially, for starting VampirePersonals to help find me a vampire penpal! John's book Out of the Shadows: An Exploration of Dark Paganism and Magick can be found at http://www.waningmoon.com, along with his VampirePersonals site and his Gothic Nails site ‑‑ very erotic and useful information. Thanks, John!
Second, but no less valuable, Konstantinos. Thank you for your books that deal with the occult and dark magick, and for letting me use you as a character (yourself) in this book. The story wouldn't have been the same without you, and I appreciate your insights very much. Konstantinos is an author of numerous occult books, a trained mentalist, and is a musician of the goth-rock genre. His website is http://www.konstantinos.com. You can order all his books there, especially: Vampires: The Occult Truth; Nocturnal Witchcraft: Magick After Dark; and Gothic Grimoire, which I used as research material for this book.
Again, I thank you. Both of you have left a lasting impression on me. John explains to me the "why," while Konstantinos showed me the "how." I truly consider you to be my friends, and I hope I get the opportunity to meet both of you in person one day.
Sheri
"Okay, he's agreed to meet with us."
"What time?" The pause that followed Detective Jessica Tanner's question lingered. She glanced at the man in the driver's seat, Detective Kyle Bishop.
He looked at his partner beside him, who nodded then looked out the passenger side window of their unmarked car. Kyle turned back to her. "Midnight."
"Well, that just fucking figures." Jessica rolled her gaze to the ceiling of the car and back down to the New York City night outside her window. Steam circled from the exhaust pipe around the front of the car. People hurried along the sidewalk, huddled against the bite of the cold. At least it hadn't snowed since she'd been here, although several puddles of water lay scattered across the pavement and concrete, frozen from the freezing temps and recent rain.
She shivered and glanced at the illuminated face of her watch. Pursing her lips and shoving her hand into her coat, she slid further down into the seat. She might as well get comfortable. They had another half hour before they could get inside the club and interview the manager, Drayden Maslow. If he turned out not to be one of her prime suspects, then he had information on who probably needed to be. She kicked the back of Kyle's seat with her boot.
"Why do we have to wait? We're the police. They're the civilians."
Jessi's gaze narrowed on Kyle when he looked at his partner again. Joe Selenka turned in his seat to face her. She tried to keep the expression on her face neutral. Everything she'd heard about the guy indicated he was a "good" cop, but her instincts told her not to trust him too far. Beady eyes glittered close together in his wide, fleshy face. A thin, black moustache completed his sleazebag look.
She looked him in the eye and did her best not to shudder. She was a long way from home, and her instincts were all she had to keep her balanced with this case. She'd uncovered some strange clues and couldn't decide if they were the real thing.
"With this particular ... community, Detective, we try to follow their customs as much as possible. These people are very closemouthed when it comes to outsiders."
Her chin lifted. "Does that include letting a killer go free?"
"Now, look here ‑‑"
"Hey, guys, guys ‑‑" Kyle slapped Joe in the shoulder. "‑‑ he's here."
Jessi looked up in time to see four men exit a dark four-door sedan. All were dressed in black leather coats of various lengths. Two were wearing sunglasses even though the time neared midnight. One stood out from the others, and a chill settled at the base of her spine. She knew he was her man.
Over six feet tall, he walked with a long-legged grace she associated with predators. His hair, falling past broad shoulders, gleamed dark in the light from the streetlamp. The coat he wore covered most of his body, but she could envision a taut, muscular build beneath the leather garment. There wouldn't be any spare fat on this guy. The overall package indicated a lean, mean individual in both physique and mind.
"There's our guy." Joe grinned. "Buncha freaks."
Jessi raised an eyebrow. Her scant research had indicated a variety of diverse personalities in this community. They definitely weren't what society considered the norm, but "freak" didn't quite apply. "Makes you feel right at home, huh, Joe?"
Jessi opened her door and stepped into the cold.
Joe followed, slamming his door with enough force to shake the car. "You fuckin' bitch! I've had all I can stand of your mouth."
He came around the front of the car, his finger pointing in her face. Jessi registered the interest of the four men they had observed seconds earlier. She groaned, inwardly, at her lack of control and knew she shouldn't have pushed Joe so far. On the verge of apologizing to him, her words were cut short when he grabbed the front of her jacket and swung her around to slam her back against the vehicle.
"I'm gonna teach you what we do to smart-ass women up here."
Air whooshed from her lungs. In her peripheral vision she saw her suspect move toward them. Jeez, that was all she needed. She took a deep breath and brought her knee up into Joe's crotch, sending him down to the ground with a yell of agony.
She stumbled forward as his hands kept a grasp on her coat. "Let go, dammit!"
"You ... motherless ... whore ... you're gonna pay for that." His hands tightened, choking her, and he pulled himself up, using her body as a support.
Jessi knew he'd take a swing at her as soon as his feet found purchase on the slick concrete. She took a step back, then dropped, her weight pulling her down. Before she hit the pavement, she swung her right leg out and around to catch Joe behind the ankles, knocking him flat on his back. Air wheezed from his lungs and he clutched his chest, gasping for breath.
Jessi stood, took a couple of steps back, and dropped her hands to her knees. Looking down at the sidewalk, she took some deep breaths. A pair of black combat boots came into view, but she didn't have the strength at the moment to look up.
"Nice moves." The voice, deep and rich, skittered down her spine. The New York accent blended with another cadence she couldn't recognize. "I was going to offer some assistance, but you seem to have the situation under control ... Miss ..."
Jessi's laugh came out a bark. Her throat burned with the need for oxygen after her skirmish. She raised her head to find a lean hand extended to her, spiked with long black fingernails. She shivered and ignored the offer. She didn't want to know what the touch of his fingers against hers felt like, but imagined a warm, firm grip heightened by the scrape of those lethal nails. She glanced up.
Awareness flashed between them as dark eyes assessed her. Jessi straightened.
"Tanner. Detective Tanner." She watched a muscle tighten along his jaw.
"Ah, yes." His fingers clenched into a fist a fraction of a second before he let his hand drop. "I believe you have some questions for me." He turned his body toward the adjacent building; he flicked a glance at Joe, then Kyle, who knelt beside his partner. His mouth quirked in a brief semblance of a grin, then returned to an expressionless mask when he looked back at her. "Follow me."
Kyle helped Joe up with an arm around his waist. Joe limped past her. The murderous look he threw her way could have melted stone. If he'd been trying to scare her, he hadn't succeeded.
She wasn't frightened of Joe Selenka. She stuffed her hands into her pockets and stared at the retreating back of the man she'd come to question, striding several yards in front of the group. She'd seen scarier things than Joe over the last several months, and the man in black leather, with the intense stare, was one of them.
\*
Detective Tanner. Drayden drummed his fingers against the top of his desk. Normally, it didn't faze him at all when people avoided touching him, but her obvious disgust at his manicure irritated him. What made it worse was that he didn't know why it irritated him!
He watched the two male police officers enter and sit while their female counterpart squeezed through his men. Once she stood inside the room, he waved his soldiers away. He scanned the three from beneath his lashes, but didn't consider any of them to be a threat. His gaze traveled over her long legs, pausing a second at the juncture of her thighs and hips. He wondered if she moved in bed as well as she had on the street.
"Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer."
He smiled. Spunky. He liked that and her southern accent, slow and husky. He sat back and let his gaze cruise lazily over her again.
Medium height, athletic build, perky breasts ‑‑ there wasn't much about the woman in front of him that he found lacking. She'd look better in leather than denim, but that could be remedied easily enough. He glanced at her face.
Her eyebrow cocked in question, daring him to deny his perusal. She didn't wear makeup, but didn't need to with her full lips, high cheekbones, and clear skin. Her hair, a deep chestnut color, was pulled into a ponytail at the base of her neck. Drayden had the sudden urge to pull the thick mass loose and run his fingers through the silky strands. His fingers tightened on the arm of the chair.
"That won't be necessary. I have a photographic memory." He tapped his temple with his forefinger, surveying her reaction to his fingernails once again. "You're forever imprinted on my mind."
A faint pink color tinged her cheeks, but her eyes were what caught his attention. The clear green irises had flashed irritation and distrust, but her gaze had followed the path of his fingernail, widening with a spark of desire, while her nostrils had quivered with the tiniest show of excitement.
The tingle in the back of his neck intensified. He shifted his chair closer to the desk. No sense in letting her see she aroused him, especially with an audience present.
"What can I do for you?"
The older officer leaned forward with a grimace of pain and offered his card.
Good. Drayden would have hurt him a lot worse than the woman had if he'd gotten hold of him. Abusing a woman or a child were two things he couldn't abide.
"Detective Selenka, Mr. Maslow, and this is my partner, Detective Bishop. You've already met Detective Tanner from the Hattiesburg Police Department in Mississippi."
Drayden's eyebrow rose. "Mississippi?" His eyes flicked over her again. That explained the accent, but not why she was here in New York City. He'd heard rumors recently ‑‑
"I'm investigating a murder that happened outside Hattiesburg a few months ago, Mr. Maslow, that my department feels is tied to your ... community."
He heard the hesitation, the doubt, but she didn't lower her gaze.
"In what way?"
"A young woman was found dead in a warehouse that had been used for a party."
She stepped forward and placed a picture on his desk. The lifeless eyes of a woman in her mid-twenties stared back at him. From the clothing scattered around her body and the chains around her wrists, she appeared to be involved in the BDSM scene, goth scene, vampire scene, or all three.
A black leather collar circled her throat, while her lips were smeared with black lipstick. Multiple piercings decorated her ears, eyebrow, and nipples. She lay nude on a concrete floor except for her thigh-high black leather boots. Her position and the bruises on her inner thighs and abdomen supported his suspicion that she'd been raped, before and during the time she'd been bled to death. Spatters of her blood lay on the floor around her and on her neck, arms, and breasts.
A red-hot rage burned through his gut. This senseless waste of a human life was the very reason "normal" society would never accept his kind. The very reason his kind had to hide behind a veil of secrecy and the absurd fantasies Hollywood had built over the years. He swallowed his anger, ignoring the twitching muscle in his jaw, and pushed the photo back across the desk to Detective Tanner.
"I've never seen her before."
The younger male shifted forward. "Uh, we know that, but we wondered if you might have an idea who could have done this?"
Drayden cocked his head to the side and spread his hands wide. "Why would I know anything?"
A sound of disbelief escaped Detective Tanner. "Let's cut the crap." She pointed her finger at him. Her eyes narrowed, and the flush on her cheeks couldn't be mistaken for anything but anger. Her entire body shimmered with the emotion, and Drayden could only wonder why she took this murder so personally.
"Jessi ‑‑"
Jessi. The name suited the feisty woman in front of him.
"Don't Jessi me, Kyle. If he doesn't know anything, then he knows who does." She planted both hands on his desk and leaned down to his level. "This ... girl ... was killed by someone pretending to be some kind of vampire. We know and you know that there was a large festival in New Orleans around Halloween."
"Still, what does that have to do with me?"
He watched her chest rise beneath her sweater in agitation. "Our source tells us a group of people claiming to be from your house came down to New Orleans and left with another, smaller group heading back to Hattiesburg. So are you going to help us find the killer, or not?"
Drayden shook the tingle of her psychic energy from his mind and focused on her accusation. He shoved his need for sustenance aside. His primary concern had to be the protection and safety of his people. He leaned an elbow on his desk to bring him closer to her. "I'm not aware of any vampires in Mississippi, or anywhere else, Detective. I can't help you."
She didn't believe him, he knew. Her body visibly shook, but she held her rage within. Without a word, she turned on her heel and swung the door open, letting the heavy wood slam into the wall.
Immediately, his men came forward, but he waved a hand to indicate they should let her and her companions pass. He sat back, letting a deep sigh ease the tension in his neck and back. His glance traveled across the space of his desk to the forgotten photo of the girl. He grimaced and picked up the gruesome image.
She hadn't forgotten.
The picture floated back to the desktop.
Detective Jessi Tanner had done exactly what she had intended. She'd made him sweat ‑‑ his mind called up an image of her jeans stretched tight over her luscious ass, as she'd marched out his door ‑‑ in more ways than one. If she thought her little oversight with the photograph would result in action, then she had calculated correctly.
Drayden pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket and hit a single button. In seconds he was connected to his most trusted lieutenant. He turned his chair to face the window behind him and stared out over the darkened sky.
"Yeah, it's me. We have a problem. Get me someone down at Red Flame, now." He hesitated. "And I want all the information you can dig up on a Jessi Tanner from the Hattiesburg Police Department in Hattiesburg, Mississippi."
Jessi cradled the phone with her right ear and shoulder as she clicked through the Internet, looking for information. She'd typed in Drayden Maslow's name and had come up empty. Then she typed in Vampire Houses and hit Search. The screen shifted in color and text.
"Bingo!" She leaned forward, careful not to dislodge the phone. She'd been on hold for the last fifteen minutes. How long could it take for the chief to go to the john ‑‑
"Hello."
"Chief Thomas, this is Jessi."
"Well, nice of you to call, Jessica."
She cringed. No one called her "Jessica" except her mother whenever Jessi made her upset. The chief had the same tone of voice her mother did when Jessi knew a lecture waited for something she'd done wrong. She sighed. Joe Selenka had complained.
"Look, Chief ‑‑"
"No, you look, Detective. You're a freakin' guest up there, and I expect you to follow their rules. Got it?"
"But, Chief ‑‑"
"No 'buts.' Play nice or come home. If anyone up there finds out the victim was your cousin, it's my ass, not yours. Your being within five feet of this case is a conflict of interest. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
The line went dead, and she let the receiver fall from her shoulder, then caught it in the crook of her arm. Her fingers clicked the mouse on House Meroveus. She scrolled down the screen, not seeing anything she could connect to Drayden Maslow. The man didn't exist. She'd hunted the phone book, called information, searched the archives at City Hall ... nothing. The man was a ghost.
"No, there's no such thing as ghosts, and he damn well knows more than he's saying about this murder." She sighed, sat back, and rubbed her eyes. She'd been at this all morning. Time to take a break. Standing, she stretched her arms above her head and arched her back with a heavy yawn. The hem of her sweater rode to a point below her breasts.
From around the room erupted cat calls and shouts of "Show us some more skin." Jessi dropped her arms and flipped a couple of guys off.
"Yeah, that's what we want, baby!"
"Jack-off, Donaldson."
The detective made an obscene motion with his hand in front of his fly.
Jessi shook her head and mumbled under her breath. "Men. They're the same everywhere you go."
"Not all of us."
Jessi spun around to the male voice behind her, and had to look up a long way before she could see his face. Her mouth fell open, while her heart skipped a few beats. At least six-foot-six, the guy wore all black, which blended with his long black hair and dark eyes. For a second she thought Drayden Maslow stood in front of her, but she studied the intense face more closely. Her heart settled in her chest. They looked a lot alike, but this man had a sexy little cleft in his chin and a kinder mouth ‑‑ shaped like Cupid's bow ‑‑ perfect for kissing!
For the first time that day, Jessi smiled. "Hi."
"Hi, yourself. Are you Detective Tanner?"
"Uh, yeah, but you can call me ... Jessi, if you like." Her voice sounded feminine and soft compared to the gruff and bitchy voice she'd used on her coworkers just seconds before.
He smiled; she gripped the back of her chair and bit back a groan. That smile could hypnotize a room full of women all drooling for a chance to stare into the mesmeric gaze that looked down at her. They stared at each other for what seemed minutes before she realized she still didn't know who he was, or what he wanted.
"Please, sit down." She indicated the chair beside the loaner desk the NYPD had given her for her use during her investigation. "What can I do for you, Mr. ‑‑"
"Konstantinos."
Umm, Greek. "Okay. What can I do for you, Mr. Konstantinos?"
"Just Konstantinos. No 'mister.'" His smile deepened to form dimples on either side of his sensual mouth.
"Sure." Oh, baby. I'll call you anything you want. In her mind, Jessi bit her knuckles and kicked herself. She had to get a grip here. She cleared her throat, picked up some papers on her desk, and tapped them into order. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, I'm here to do something special for you." The rich voice held a note of amusement and seduction blended together, as smooth as warm red wine.
Her mouth fell open at the same time the papers in her hands fluttered to the floor. She sat there looking at the Greek god in front of her, hoping she'd heard him right. After six months of no sex, there were several special things she needed him to "do for her." Her gaze fastened onto his lips. The tip of her tongue darted out to trace the top edge of hers.
Konstantinos threw his head back and laughed. The sound, as sexy and husky as his voice, circled and curled through her body to settle in the throbbing nerves of her clit. If he kept on, she'd come in her chair right in the middle of the police station.
He leaned forward and placed the tips of his thumb and forefinger on her chin. "I don't think you want me to do that to you right here, Jessi mou." His breath fanned her cheeks and lips.
She closed her mouth and breathed in the scent of warm, clean male.
He smiled and sat back. "Maybe sometime when we're not working together."
"Sure." She sighed, then realized what she'd heard. Her eyes narrowed. "What did you say?" She was awake now. Her sexual fantasies disappeared in a puff of smoke at his words. "You're working with me? On what?"
He shrugged. "I'm your vampire expert."
Her eyebrows shot up. She studied him, letting her gaze travel from the tip of his black head to the soles of his black combat boots. A silver ring on his right hand caught her attention. She angled her head to get a better look. A pentacle. She frowned.
"Are you a vampire?"
"No."
She breathed a sigh of relief. Although all the evidence she'd gathered indicated that Molly Jones had been killed by a vampire, Jessi still found the idea hard to believe.
"I'm a witch."
"Witch?" She came out of her chair and stood gaping at the man sitting calmly beside her desk.
"Actually, a Dark Neopagan ‑‑"
"Oh ... my ... God." She sat down with a thud. Her chair rolled into the filing cabinet behind her, but she didn't care. Her head throbbed and she thought she would be sick.
"Or, Goddess." He laughed.
She closed her eyes and let her forehead rest on one hand against the arm of her chair. "I just can't take anymore of this hocus-pocus shit." She peeked out between her fingers at her new "partner," hoping he had disappeared.
No luck. He sat right where she'd left him before his mind-blowing revelation.
"Look, it's like this." She let her hand drop. "I'm from Mississippi. We don't have this kind of crap where I come from."
The smile evaporated and he leaned toward her. "Obviously, you do, or you wouldn't be here investigating the murder of a young woman."
His quiet words hit home, forcing her to sit up in her chair. "Tell me what I need to know."
\*
"Isn't this just peachy." She flipped through the pages of the book Konstantinos had given her. "'Vampires, in reality, are those creatures who prey upon others for sustenance.'"
She glanced into Lieutenant Jackson's office. All she could see of her gorgeous Greek were his long legs and boots ‑‑ black, of course. She continued her reading. "'The source of that sustenance, the method of obtaining it, and the need it fulfills are what distinguish the different types of vampires from each other.'"
Seemed the lieutenant's daughter ran in the goth crowd. When he'd mentioned the case to his wife at the dinner table, the daughter "just happened to know someone who could help."
Behind her she heard several male voices moaning in ghoulish form. She shook her head at their childish antics.
"Find any vampires, Tanner?"
"Better wear your cross to bed at night."
She ignored them up to the point Selenka pressed his sweaty cheek against hers and whispered in her ear. "Yeah, 'cause if your new boyfriend doesn't bite you, I will."
Jessi patted his cheek. "I kicked your ass once, Selenka. Don't make me do it again in front of all your friends."
He jerked away from her, but not before he issued a warning. "You're gonna be alone sooner or later, bitch, and I'm gonna be there waiting for you."
Jessi scrubbed a hand over the spot his skin had touched and fought the bile that rose in her throat. She threw the book onto her desk and sighed.
"You're not studying."
She swiveled around to see Konstantinos. He stared after Joe, then wrapped the ends of his black coat around himself before he dropped his large frame gracefully into the side chair. She shook her head.
"Want to put a whammy on his ass for me?"
He turned his head toward her, and dark eyes stared into hers. The beautiful smile had disappeared. At that second she felt a shimmer of fear, as Konstantinos's intenseness took her breath.
"Ever hear of the threefold law?"
"No." Her answer sounded hushed and reverent. She felt like she had when she'd sat in Sunday school, looking up at the preacher with her breath held tight, waiting for the revelation of the Holy Spirit.
"The threefold law states that whatever energy you send out will be sent back to you three times stronger."
His words trailed off, and silence lay between them. His gaze still held the intensity of a few seconds before, but she thought she saw a glint of humor in the dark depths. Jessi knew he was giving her a chance to consider the information he'd given her, like some child he might be tutoring.
Child, indeed. She smiled. "So, if I wanted to put a spell on you to make you desire me a little bit, we'd end up in bed all day, fucking our brains out?"
He blinked ‑‑ twice. Then his lips turned up into a wide smile. "Yeah, something like that."
"Hmm, doesn't sound too complicated. I'll just have to remember to cast 'nice' spells."
"Interested in becoming a witch?"
"According to my ex, I already am."
Konstantinos laughed. "We're going to get along just fine."
"I just bet we will." Jessi stood and tucked his book under her arm. They needed to get started. Her temporary lieutenant had asked this strange man to be her "tutor" in the occult world of witches and ‑‑ God forbid ‑‑ vampires.
Jessi played with the cardboard coaster, flicking the square through her fingers, and watched Konstantinos work the crowded club. Women of all ages and sizes flocked around him like groupies. She could tell he ate up the attention. He had a smile for the redhead and a caress on the cheek for the brunette. The blond, he offered the briefest touch of a kiss on her pouty lips to keep her coming back for more.
Jessi's eyebrow rose at that move. Smooth Operator. The old song entered her mind as she watched him in action. His movements were precise and accurate, like he had carefully planned them to draw attention, mainly female, to himself.
She smiled. She really did like him. He had sex appeal oozing from his pores and a good sense of humor. Too bad he was the type she'd sworn to stay away from for the rest of her life. She'd been burned too many times to fall for another playboy, but if anyone could tempt her, he'd be the one.
"Your boyfriend is popular."
The hair on the back of her neck rose at the sound of the familiar voice. Jessi turned to the man behind the bar where she sat.
Drayden Maslow stood with his hands flat on the countertop, looking across the floor at Konstantinos. Drayden's long black hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, accentuating his high cheekbones and lean face. He wore a black poet's shirt with black leather pants and boots. Where the shirt lay open at his neck, she could make out the edge of a silver chain and medallion. He looked like an artist, brooding and mysterious.
"Yes, he is." She wouldn't deny the "boyfriend" reference. It wasn't any of his business that she and Konstantinos had nothing but a working relationship.
Her gaze traveled the length of his arms down to his fingernails. A wide silver band encircled his middle finger. She shivered at the sheer beauty of his hands and the lethal weapons on the end of each finger. She had no doubt he'd used them in battle before. There was an air of death that lingered around him.
A black eyebrow rose, and again she was reminded of the similarity between him and Konstantinos. She glanced at his mouth. This was where the similarity ended. Drayden's mouth had the fullness that Konstantinos's did, but not the sensuality. Drayden Maslow would take and consume what he wanted, forcing a response from a lover, while Konstantinos would coax a woman's favors from her with guile and cunning. In that respect, she knew who the true poet was. This man was a warrior, not a playboy.
She turned and watched Konstantinos smile at the blond clinging to his arm.
"Didn't take you for the type who likes group sex."
Jessi turned back at the cutting quality in his voice. "Whatever my sexual preferences are, Mr. Maslow, I don't think they concern you."
He shrugged a shoulder toward her friend. "He's a musician and a mentalist. He attracts women like a corpse attracts flies."
"Colorful analogy."
The smile that appeared held no warmth. He leaned closer. "And he's known to have different women every night of the week."
He stood so close she could count his eyelashes. A nervous flutter teased her stomach. She swallowed and forced herself to remain still. "That's his prerogative."
"What flavor are you?"
Bastard. Jessi forced herself to smile and move closer. Their noses were less than an inch apart. They'd see who intimidated whom first. Long and far gone were the days she let any man scare her off. She'd been there, done that, and had the balls, now, to prove it.
"I'm the flavor of the month." She eased a finger out to trace the edge of his jaw. The scrub of stubble sent shock waves through her body to her clit. Her foot fought to keep her body balanced on the bar stool, but she kept her position.
"I'm the one he'll be taking home, so let those other women enjoy a little flirting while they can." She wrinkled her nose at him and smiled wider.
Black lashes flickered down, and she could feel his gaze on her lips, but refused to back away. Her heart thudded hard, and she wouldn't be surprised if he could feel the erratic beat. A puff of air was all the warning she got before his tongue snaked out and licked the seam of her lips.
Her eyes opened wide to clash with his at the same time her mouth opened on a protest. He took advantage again and slipped a warm tongue into her mouth. When she made to move away, a hand eased behind her neck beneath her hair to hold her in place while the other hand wrapped around the top of her arm. The graze of his nails through the fabric of her sweater sent shivers up her spine.
Music, voices, and noise evaporated as he moved his tongue over hers, letting her feel the cool caress of his tongue ring and the nip of his teeth on her lips. The faint taste of bourbon and cigarettes teased her taste buds.
She closed her eyes and moaned. Moisture pooled between her legs as the slow crawl of desire wound its way through her body, licking and burning every nerve cell in its path.
He released her arm, and the kiss ended. The hand at the base of her neck caressed once, then eased away, trailing fingernails against her skin. Music and noise erupted around them.
Jessi jumped, and goosebumps appeared on her arms. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and inched off the stool. Taking a step back, she looked around at the other patrons. No one seemed to have noticed them. It was like they had been enveloped in their own slice of time.
"W-Why did you do that?"
Black eyes glittered in the dim light. He shrugged, picked up a towel, then wiped the counter. "Just wanted to sample the 'current flavor' before it got used up and replaced."
"Bastard." This time she didn't care that he heard what she thought of him. She grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth harder. "I hope you enjoyed it, because that was the last time you'll taste that particular brand."
"Don't be so hasty with conclusions." He snapped the towel and laughed. "We have an interesting future ahead of us."
"Yeah, what makes you think that?"
The glint in his eyes intensified. "Miss Cleo told me."
His words sounded like a joke, but from deep within, Jessi knew he meant what he said. She'd felt a connection with him during that brief kiss. The awareness of him, a complete stranger, returned along with a rush of fear. Not of him, but the world he lived in. She glanced at the various people around her dressed in black with pale makeup and black lipstick, hiding their true faces from the "outside world."
She stumbled away from the bar and bumped into someone ‑‑ a man. He smiled at her, revealing one-inch fangs attached to his incisors with dental glue, but real-looking all the same. She glanced back at Drayden. His gaze intensified, and there was no way to interpret his stare as anything but a glare.
A sharp pain shot through her mind; she gasped and clutched her temple. A barrage of thoughts jumbled through her at once, but the one word that stood out was "run." She glanced at him one more time, and he mouthed the same word to her.
Jessi turned and strode into the crowd, pushing and shoving her way to the nearest exit. The dancing sea of black-cloaked people parted to let her reach a door. Strong hands grabbed her arms to prevent her from exiting. She twisted to the side and brought her knee up to hit ... air. She looked up.
Konstantinos glared down at her. The question on his face was obvious. Jessi shrugged his hands loose. "No, I'm not crazy." She hugged her arms tight around her chest and looked around. "Just get me out of here."
Without a word, he took her by the elbow and led her back through the throng to the club entrance. He handed their claim checks to the hostess, a girl dressed in two strategically placed strips of black material, with fishnet stockings and orange hair.
The girl came back seconds later with their coats. "Here you go."
Jessi watched Konstantinos smile and hand the girl a tip, which she promptly took and slid into the cleavage of the black strip across her breasts. Konstantinos's smile broadened.
Jessi resisted the urge to kick him.
"When are you going to call me?" The orange-haired girl batted black mascara-coated lashes at him.
"I've got your number." He patted his coat pocket.
The girl giggled.
Jessi rolled her gaze to the ceiling. "Whenever you're through playing Romeo, could we please go?"
His expression hardened for a second, and his fingers bit into the soft flesh of her elbow. He smiled at the girl and pulled Jessi out onto the sidewalk.
Jessi jerked her arm free and stepped to the curb to hail a cab, but before she could raise her arm, Konstantinos moved his large frame in front of her and, with slow steps, pushed her back against the wall. He placed his hands on either side of her head. Shadows from the night played across his face, casting eerie hollows beneath his cheeks and eyebrows. Again, the fear she'd experienced with Drayden surfaced. Not of Konstantinos, exactly, but of some power that lay just beneath the surface. Energy vibrated off him in waves that buffeted her nervous system.
Konstantinos spoke, his voice low and full of purpose. "I'm helping you out on this case as a favor to a friend. I'm not some bodyguard-cum-errand boy that you can snap your fingers at and expect to jump."
He stepped back and his energy released her. She sagged against the wall and watched him move to the edge of the pavement to hail a cab ‑‑ every move graceful and precise. Like Drayden, he'd stand out in a crowd anywhere he went.
He opened the door, wrapped his leather coat around his long frame, and turned to get in, but stopped and glanced at her. There were no words, just the black eyebrow arched to ask, "Are you coming?"
Jessi pushed away from the wall and walked to the car. He slid in and over to make room for her. She scooted in and slammed the door. She heard a few words in what she assumed was Greek spoken to the driver, but didn't ask as she stared out the window.
Silence, except for the driver's radio, surrounded them. Jessi kept her head angled where her hair concealed the left side of her face. With one fingernail she picked at the sole of her shoe. Every now and then she'd glance over without moving her head to stare at his leg crossed at his ankle, resting against the back of the seat.
"I'm sorry." She barely got the words through her clenched teeth. Apologies didn't come easy, but she owed this one. After a second or two of the continued silence, she wasn't sure he'd heard her. She swallowed the lump in her throat to try again.
Long fingers reached over and took her hand into a warm embrace just before he pulled her against him with an arm around her shoulders.
"I know." He smoothed her hair away from her face and tipped her chin up to his gaze with a forefinger. "I also know you were scared. What happened?"
Jessi closed her eyes, snuggling closer to his warmth. She shook her head.
"I'm okay, now."
His arm tightened. "I'll take care of you, but you have to trust and respect me enough to let me know when there's a problem."
She smiled and kissed his hand. She'd known him two days, but she knew she could depend on him. "I do trust ... and respect you. I don't need a bodyguard. I can take care of myself, physically."
"Hmm, I believe that. But what about mentally?"
"What do you mean?" She knew, because she'd felt him and Drayden Maslow in her mind earlier. That was what frightened her. These people could somehow get into your thoughts, your feelings.
He shifted in the seat to face her. "If I tried, I could read your mind. I've trained myself, but there are others who are born with the ability, and with additional training they don't have to try at all. Do you understand?"
She nodded. "I think so."
"I can protect you."
"How?"
"I can teach you how to perform a banishing ritual ‑‑"
"A what?"
He shook his head and waved his hand. "A protection spell."
"I-I don't believe in all that."
He sighed. "Then I suggest you start, or you will end up dead like, or in worse condition than, the gal in Hattiesburg."
Jessi sighed at the heavy burden that squeezed her heart whenever she thought of Molly. "What could be worse than being dead?"
He propped his arm on the window and leaned his head against his hand. His expression grew more serious as he studied her. "You could end up a slave, held captive by their psychic powers ‑‑ your only function to feed and serve them sexually."
\*
Drayden watched Jessi slide into the cab with the goth. The taste of her lingered on his lips and tongue, while the smell of her skin and hair refused to leave his nostrils. The sound of her moan at the moment she had surrendered echoed in his mind, making him crave the other sounds she would make when she climaxed with him deep inside her.
The taillights faded into the night; Drayden punched the wall. A picture fell and crashed amongst the occult paraphernalia he collected on a bookcase.
A knock rapped in a quick tattoo, and his door opened with a jerk to reveal Jarrett Morgan, his best lieutenant. His dark eyes scanned the room and rested on the photograph. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, fine." Drayden sat in his chair and picked up an athame, which had fallen during his little outburst of temper. He stabbed the tip into the top of his desk.
Jarrett's gaze narrowed, but he continued as if the episode happened routinely. "I heard back from Red Flame. Several of our house went down during the Halloween festivities to see Father Sebastian and several vamp bands."
Drayden watched him pull a list from his jacket pocket.
"At least ten of our people left with about six Red Flame members from Mississippi." He handed the list to Drayden.
Drayden scanned the list. One name caught his attention. "Everyone returned to New York together?"
Jarrett shifted his hands in his jacket pocket.
A sense of unease registered in Drayden's thoughts. He looked up.
A frown creased Jarrett's forehead and he didn't meet Drayden's gaze.
Drayden lowered the list. "Who didn't come back with the group?"
"Your brother."
Damnation. His fist crushed the list. Fingernails tore into the palm of his hand, but he didn't feel the pain. He closed his eyes to get a grip on his anger. He felt his nostrils flare with the effort. "Where ... is ... he?"
Jarrett shifted his body again, telling Drayden all he needed to know. He'd banned his brother from the brothels, but apparently his orders were moot to some. Drayden didn't want to deal with Nolan's addictions right now, but he knew his indifference to his family's "curse" had something to do with this girl's murder.
"Go drag his drunken ass off whatever whore he's fucking, and bring him to me."
"Yes." Jarrett left the room with three steps backwards.
The show of fear would have amused him, except that made two people tonight he'd witnessed afraid of him ‑‑ his best friend and the woman who had been on his mind since he'd watched her throw her arrogant partner to the ground. He didn't want either of them to be frightened of him, especially her. He wanted her to desire him, and she had ... for a few seconds, until he'd merged with her mind, letting her witness a brush of his true power as ... a vampire.
He turned to face the window and the street below. He'd done what he'd had to do ‑‑ get her away from here. She not only put his people in danger, but herself, as well. He knew she'd react the way she had to his words and what his friends called his "menacing look," but it had been for her own good. The more she probed, the more data would be revealed about the members of House Meroveus, a secret society hidden within and behind the walls of Club Arcadia.
The office door burst open.
Drayden turned to face the one person whom he had sworn to protect with all his power. The one person who, in one night of alcohol-induced psychosis, had brought possible destruction to them all ‑‑ his brother, heir to House Meroveus.
Nolan Maslow skidded into his brother's office. He caught his balance, shifted the collar of his shirt, then buttoned his jeans. He glanced over his shoulder at Jarrett Morgan and snarled, exposing his fangs. Jarrett hesitated a second, and Nolan tensed for another attack. He'd been in the middle of a little "snack" when he'd been hauled off his donor.
"Leave it."
Ah, his brother. Nolan dismissed the watchdog with a shrug of his shoulder and turned to Drayden.
"Did you summon?" He bowed low with a flourish of his hand.
"Cut the crap." Drayden sat behind his desk with a list clenched in his hand.
Nolan edged forward, slowly, and sank into a chair. The cold metal back bit into his skin, and he grimaced in distaste. "You'd think with all the money House Meroveus and Club Arcadia take in, you could at least afford decent office furniture, bro."
He heard the exasperation in Drayden's sigh and bit back a smile. Anything he could do to make his brother's life a living nightmare appealed to him. He nodded toward the paper. "Christmas list?"
"Not exactly." Drayden laid the list on the desk, flipping the writing toward Nolan so he could read the black type. "There are some interesting names on here, though. Recognize anyone in particular?"
Nolan snorted. "Yeah, my entire crew. What's the deal?" He slung the paper back at Drayden.
He ignored Drayden's jaw tightening, as his brother caught the list and slid a photo across at the same time with his other hand ‑‑ so graceful, so in sync. Nolan fought the old urge to gag at the perfection that was his brother, the mighty vampire warrior Drayden Maslow.
He looked down at the photo, and the sensation subsided to be replaced by arousal. His heart rate accelerated and mouth watered, remembering the taste of her blood, the slick heat of her pussy, and the sound of her terrified screams as he'd fucked her and killed her at the same time, bleeding and absorbing her life-force to sustain his own.
His nostrils flared with the throb of his cock. He looked up to see Drayden studying him with narrowed eyes. He saw the look of contempt and pity in the gaze. Fuck him. Drayden could deny his heritage all he wanted, but not him, Nolan Maslow, the last of the true "Thaumaturge Kings."
Nolan raised the photo to his face and kissed the area of the dead girl's pussy. "Sweet as honey."
"You sick motherfucker. What have you done?"
Nolan smiled. "Reminded you of your duties, dear brother." He stood and headed for the door. "I'm tired of role-playing to obtain the energy I need to survive. We're a unique breed. Hybrids ‑‑ psychic vampire mixed with a sanguinarian. Accept it."
He spread his arms wide and breathed in exaggerated fashion. "It's time for me to claim my heritage, and you to serve me instead of acting like my babysitter."
Drayden stood with fists clenched at his sides. "We are not role-playing. We are fighting a battle of survival. If we are to remain anonymous to the status quo, then we have to follow the rules of the Black Veil."
Nolan watched his brother clench his fists. Oh, how it made his dick swell from the sheer power he gained at seeing his brother grovel. Drayden continued in his "holier than thou" voice.
"I am aware of my responsibilities. It has always been and always will be my duty to do what is best for our community, and that includes protecting our suppliers from the likes of you, regardless of whether you are the true heir."
Nolan's hand cradled the doorknob. "It is my lineage that can be traced back to Merovech, not yours." He turned. Time to knock that die-hard equilibrium down a peg or two. "By the way, who was the delectable brunette you were tasting earlier?"
He flicked his tongue through the gap of his fangs. "From her clothes, it didn't appear she was from around here, but she looked ... good enough to eat."
"Don't even ‑‑"
"What? Think about it?" He laughed. "I already have, bro, because what you crave and deny yourself ‑‑ I take and consume. I'd watch that sweet piece of ass if I were you, or she just might become my dessert."
With that, he opened the door, pushed Jarrett out of his way, and left.
\*
Jessi watched the cab pull away from the curb, carrying Konstantinos. He'd wanted to walk her to her door, but she'd refused. She'd been here for a month, and the only activity she had seen so far on her street was Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein yelling at each other ‑‑ her from the third-story window and him in the street in his underwear. She shook her head and pulled her keys from her pocket.
Walking up the short flight of steps to her door, she tried to insert her key, but her fingers slipped over the lock and the keys fell with a jingle to the cold cement step.
"Damn." She pulled off her glove as she bent and reached for the keys. Her fingernails scraped the concrete, and she clenched her teeth at the sensation, which was worse than fingernails on a chalkboard, in her opinion. "Ooo, God, I hate th‑‑"
She froze. The hair on the back of her neck stiffened, and her skin tingled like thousands of ants crawled across her skin. Slowly, she straightened and turned to scan the street while flipping through her keys. She needed to look casual, so she whistled a snappy little tune she'd heard on the television earlier that day. All the while, she searched the darkened corners and niches along the street, hoping to see the person who watched her. Her tune reached the end, and she turned back to the door, angling her head to listen for anything out of the ordinary.
A clatter sounded about fifty yards away. She pivoted, groaning at the spasm she received in her side for the effort. Not sure what she'd heard, she eased down the steps and reached for her gun.
Shit! She'd left it when she and Konstantinos had gone out. A row of garbage cans stood by the street. With a quick perusal, she spotted a broken broom handle. She pulled it free of the debris, shifting it in her hand to find a firm, comfortable grip. She moved forward, checking every sunken stairwell she came to that led to below-ground apartments.
Nothing.
The suspense grated on her nerves. Every sound echoed and amplified with her anxiety. Through the cold, she could feel sweat soak her skin beneath her sweater. She swallowed the lump that was her pulse in her throat, pounding through the thin layer of skin. She neared a darkened alley; her grip tightened on the wooden handle. Taking a deep breath, she pivoted to face the entrance at the same time an airborne body collided with her chest.
Sharp talons sank into her skin through the layers of her jacket and clothing. She released her weapon to pull her attacker off. Her fingers sunk into a thick layer of fur ‑‑ she screamed at the same time her attacker let out an angry yowl.
Rrrrooow ... Teeth bit into the soft skin under her jaw near her ear, while the claws continued to stab and drag down her face, neck, and chest.
"Get ... off!" She dug her fingers into the fur, yanked hard, and threw the offending beast from her body before she fell to her knees on the pavement. Her breath coming in gasps, she watched a gigantic yellow cat haul ass across the street into a neighboring alley. "Goddammit!"
Jessi glanced around at the buildings. Several lights had clicked on within the apartments, and she watched a shadowy fall of drapes in one across the way, but no one came out to see if she needed help. She tried to stand, but her legs were shaking so hard, she had to take a few deep breaths to calm herself from the adrenaline rush that had taken control. She gave a short laugh and sang a few lines from Guns and Roses' "Welcome to the Jungle."
She placed one hand on her knee and saw the darkened patches of blood, spreading across her fingers and knuckles. Bile rose in her throat, but she fought the urge to vomit and pushed herself up. Hobbling back to the apartment, she searched her jacket pocket for her keys. This time she managed to get the door opened, pulling off the other glove.
She shoved the door shut with her foot and locked the bolt with her left hand. Cuts and bites covered that one, also, but thanks to the glove she'd kept on, the hand looked and felt in better condition than the right one, which throbbed and stung. Blood dripped across the floor as she made her way to the bathroom.
Her phone rang ... once, twice, three times, then stopped.
"Nobody's home!"
She sighed, searching for some antiseptic she could use to clean the wounds. She didn't know about alley cats, but where she came from there were wild animals everywhere, and one bite could lead to major infection, tetanus, or worse ... rabies. She shuddered, thinking about the series of shots she'd have to endure in her abdomen if that were the case.
The phone rang again. Jessi kicked the trash can with a mumbled oath. She hadn't had time to buy an answering machine. She would add that item to the growing list of "things needed" while she was here. At least the NYPD would cover her expenses.
\*
Twenty minutes later, she found a large bottle of antiseptic in the back of the cabinet under the bathroom sink. With her fingers stiffening, she had to open the cap with her teeth. She poured the foul-smelling liquid into the sink. She looked at the fluid swirling, then looked at her hands covered with welts and blood. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and plunged both hands into the cold liquid that burned like fire.
"Jesus!" Her scream bounced around the tiny space into her hallway at the same time her apartment door crashed into the wall. She jumped, jerking her hands free of her self-imposed torture. Antiseptic and blood mingled on the floor. Two steps into the hallway, her feet slid from beneath her and she landed on her ass and lower back with her legs up in the air.
Lying on her back, the breath knocked from her lungs, she stared at the ceiling and watched a face appear above her. She blinked several times, trying to clear the hallucination. She must have hit her head. She frowned when the image drew closer.
"Jessi? You okay?"
She couldn't answer quite yet, but managed to nod at Drayden Maslow.
"Why didn't you answer your pho‑‑ Shit! What happened?"
She smiled and tried to mouth the word "cat," but the effort caused her more pain than it was worth. With one last draw, she sucked in the much needed oxygen and coughed, long and hard.
Strong hands were lifting and pulling her up. An arm wrapped around her waist, and he half-dragged, half-carried her to the sofa in the living room. She leaned her back, now aching from the fall, against the soft cushions and closed her eyes. She could hear him down the hall in the bathroom, muttering obscenities, while he went through the medicine cabinet.
A few seconds later the cushions gave way to his weight. He placed a towel beneath her arms. When he looked up, their gazes locked. A muscle twitched beside his mouth. "This is gonna hurt."
She nodded and waited for him to apply the antiseptic with cotton balls. The expected sting hit. She sucked in a breath through her teeth. She tried to force herself to relax, but the pain kept building through her entire body. Even her hair hurt.
"T-That's enough." Her words were husky and raw, like her skin.
"You're cut on your neck and chin, too. Hold still." His fingers brushed her hair away and angled her head. A tingle of awareness shivered down her spine.
"Here, turn your head so I can reach this spot better."
The cold antiseptic stung and burned.
"Oww." She tensed and moved her legs back and forth to stop herself from jumping off the sofa.
"Shh, I know it hurts, baby, but I have to clean it."
His gentle words and touch washed over her like a protective blanket. She squinted through narrowed eyes at his face. The intense concentration he exerted in the task of cleaning her wounds made her shake. If he concentrated this hard on minor first aid, she wondered how focused he'd be when he had his mind on sex.
She bit her lip and closed her eyes against what she felt for him, now and earlier at his club. Who was she kidding? She'd been enthralled since she'd first seen him. She held in the laugh that bubbled up, too embarrassed she'd end up crying.
Easing her head back, she listened to the soft sounds of the cotton against her skin, then of him throwing the cotton balls onto a paper towel he'd placed on the coffee table. The burn of the medicine lessened and her breathing grew steady and even.
After a few seconds, she realized she had her head on his shoulder as he stroked her hair. She didn't move. The comfort he offered was a novelty to her. A luxury she didn't let herself indulge in. Dependence made one weak, and she knew she could become dependent on the touch of this man only too easy.
"I'm sorry he did this to you. If I had known ‑‑"
She stiffened and pulled away. The hair on the back of her neck bristled in warning. "Who are you talking about?"
Her words had the effect of a shutter closing over the softness and regret in his eyes. Her gaze searched his face. The gentle concern from moments before had become a mask that she couldn't read.
"No one."
Her gut told her he had been speaking about the killer. She continued to study his face.
"Why don't you tell me what happened?"
His words were like ice water to her veins. She shivered with a mixture of anger and emptiness. He knew who had killed her cousin, but he wasn't going to tell. The chemistry exploding between them would have to be ignored.
Shit! Nolan hadn't attacked her. Drayden looked at her bandaged hands, then back at the cuts and scratches on her face. He frowned. If his brother hadn't done this to her, who had?
She watched him with a narrowed gaze, and he knew he'd given too much away. When she eased away from him to stand, he registered the loss of her warmth. His lips tightened. He couldn't afford to get involved in a sexual relationship with a woman right now, especially this one. He shifted his hips to release some of the tension in the crotch of his jeans, but the second she turned away from him he caught a glimpse of her ass.
She still wore the black jeans she'd been wearing at the club. In the dim light he hadn't been able to make a good appraisal, but had known she looked good. He'd seen the way the other men had watched her, like a pack of wolves. He snorted. Some of them were! His club serviced not only the vampire community, but otherkin also. All goth peoples were welcome, as long as everyone followed the rules ‑‑ the main one being, Don't munch on the cowans without an invitation.
Her hips swayed, and his mouth went dry. The denim fit her skin like a glove. She had one of those pear-shaped asses a guy just wanted to ‑‑
She turned; he glanced up. Her hands went to her hips.
Drayden smiled, knowing he couldn't deny he'd been staring at her ... assets. He shrugged. "What can I say? I'm human."
"Are you?"
Tension filled the space between them. Their eyes clashed.
He could see desire and wariness in hers. "I'm as human as you."
"You're not ... vampire?" Her head cocked in an angle of challenge.
"Yes." He nodded and stood, slowly. He could see her muscles tense in preparation for defense. He wanted to ease her suspicions. He would give her as much information as he could. "But I'm human, and I'm also witch."
Her eyebrow shot up. "Like Konstantinos?"
His jaw clenched at the mention of the man who had been her escort that night. He'd seen the other witch in action before with other women ‑‑ goth women, who knew the score. Drayden felt a rush of resentment that she would compare him with the writer-musician. "I am not like Konstantinos."
Her eyebrows drew down. "Then you're a different kind of witch?" She looked at him, and he saw the confusion in her eyes. "I-I didn't realize there were different kinds ‑‑"
Her confusion had allowed him to move closer. One more step and he stood directly in front of her. His fingers found her chin, but he made sure he didn't touch the cut he had cleaned. He lifted her face to his.
Her pupils dilated with surprise.
"There are different kinds of everything in this world, just like there are in yours. What I meant was that I don't sleep around with a different woman every night."
She pulled away from his touch. Her lips compressed into a thin line. "You said that earlier, and I told you it wasn't your concern."
"He's gone and left you here alone."
"So?"
He smiled and stepped in closer. "So, you must not be the flavor he wants at the moment."
She tried to shove past him, but he exerted his strength and didn't move. He caught her upper arms and pushed her back against the wall. Her strength amazed him. Even with her wounds, he had to tighten his muscles and dig his boots into the carpet to prevent her from breaking his hold.
After a few seconds, she relaxed and his weight fell into her. The gush of her scent as their bodies met assailed his nostrils. Once again his cock hardened. This time he didn't stop her from knowing he was aroused. The way they stood, he knew she could feel the outline of him against her abdomen. He pressed closer.
She jerked back, but couldn't go anywhere. Her head hit the wall.
"How long have you two been together?"
"A week."
"Has he fucked you?" The flame of jealousy he'd experienced earlier at the thought of them together returned.
Her entire body stiffened. He watched her skin flame from the neck of her shirt to the top of her forehead. He heard her words, angry and tense, scrape through clenched teeth.
"That's ... none ... of your ... damned ... business."
He smiled at the sound of her southern drawl, especially on the word damned. The accent might be slow, but the effect on his libido had him craving to hear her say a few more naughty words for him ... in bed. "Oh, but it is."
"Yeah?" She shoved him. "How do you figure?"
He caught her wrists below the bandages and forced her arms above her head. The sweater she wore rode up to reveal the smooth texture of her skin.
With a groan, he caught both wrists in one hand. His free hand moved to caress her beneath her rib cage. Her breath hissed in his ear. Her hips bucked, but he pressed closer, holding her in place. "I don't steal other men's women."
She stilled at that and raised her head. Their gazes met, once again, and locked. He circled his fingers, letting his fingernails brush the sensitive nerves lying just below the surface, one by one across the flat line of her belly. A surge of power engulfed him at the sight of her throat convulsing on a swallow.
"Are you one of his women?" His hand had lined up directly over her navel. He curled the tips of his fingers and his nails scraped her skin, harder, tugging lightly on a navel ring. He paused in surprise and delight. The detective had a wild streak. His fingers twitched. A tremor passed through her body.
"He has so many, what difference would it make if I am?"
He dipped his head to nibble the sensitive area behind her ear. He nipped her earlobe. With the tip of his tongue, he circled the rim of her ear, then let his breath fan the dampened area with a whisper. "I don't like to share."
She bucked her hips again, and he had to tighten his grip on her wrists. The flat of his palm pressed into her abdomen with the ends of his fingers submerged below the waistband of her low-cut jeans. He could feel the coarse hair of her pussy against his fingertips.
"Are you, Jessi?" He flicked his tongue along her jaw.
She groaned. "N-No!"
"Good." He dipped his head and took her mouth with his at the same time he slid his hand deeper into the crotch of her jeans to cup her mound. Warm, wet heat spread beneath his fingers, but he didn't try to enter her. Without the proper precautions, his nails could hurt her. For now, he'd let her move against the pressure of his hand to bring her release.
His tongue slid against and around hers. He sucked her bottom lip, bit her top one. And the entire time, she gave as good as she got. Her little moans and whimpers shimmered down his spine, making him want to sink his cock into her, deep and hard. The hum in his ears intensified, but he ignored the sound he knew indicated a psychic link. He'd felt the connection with her before. She had a highly developed system that she seemed unaware of.
Just a little more, then I'll stop before it gets too far out of hand.
Jessi curled her bandaged fingers around his hand, wanting to yank the loose layers of his poet's shirt and pull him closer. She opened her mouth to take more of his teasing mouth, feeling the cold swirl of his tongue-ring. She shuddered.
God, to feel that on my clit! She squirmed her hips against his hand, needing him to put his fingers deep inside her pussy. The pressure of his finger on her clit hardened, but he refused to go further.
She broke the suction of their kiss, and had to evade his lips that searched and demanded her return. She shook her head. "P-Put your finger in."
"Can't." He released her wrists and put his hand behind her head. Long fingers massaged the base of her neck, while his fingernails shifted through the thickness of her hair.
Her hands caught at the front of his shirt. Their lips met and nipped. She groaned. "Why not?"
"No ... condoms."
She frowned. "You don't need a freakin' condom to fuck me with your fingers."
He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. "You do if you have these." He held up the hand that had been around her neck. Five long black fingernails glinted in the room's lamplight.
"Yeah, I guess that would be uncomfortable." Shit. She needed to come, like yesterday. Her eyes narrowed. "What kind of condoms do you use for those?"
"The kind that are smaller and thicker than regular condoms and designed to fit over the fingers." He shrugged. "They look like white balloons. You can get them at hardcore sex shops."
"Oh."
He kissed her again, and she felt the cold of the ring.
She smiled. "If you can't use your fingers, you'll just have to use something else."
The hard edge of his cock moved, restlessly, against her abdomen. She heard his sigh.
"Don't have that kind, either." He looked at her with an intensity that had her knees weak. "Unless ...?"
"Sorry. Haven't had time to go shopping for that particular household item yet."
He laughed. "Then I don't think we can do ‑‑"
"Your tongue." She wrapped her arms around his neck and rocked her hips into his.
His eyebrow arched, and the pressure of his hand increased against her clit. A wicked glint appeared in his eyes. "You have a naughty mind, you know that?"
"Yeah, unfortunately." And it was going to get her in trouble. She'd just asked a suspect to have oral sex with her, but ... dammit ... she'd been without for a long while and he was one fine-looking man. Not many men turned her on, but this one made her wet just looking at him and imagining how he could use those nails on and in her.
"Well, I can't turn down the opportunity afforded me."
He pulled his hand free of her jeans. The loss of his warmth against that part of her anatomy forced a distressed whimper from her throat. His strong arms were around her in a second, lifting her and carrying her to the sofa.
"Don't worry, babe. I'm going to give you what you need."
Without further ceremony he followed her down onto the sofa, his weight pushing her deeper into the soft cushions. His lips covered hers, while his hands pulled on the hem of her shirt and tangled in the folds of her jeans. Although their motions were hurried, she noticed how carefully he tugged the shirt down her arms and over her hands.
A cool breeze shivered across the tops of her breasts. Their mouths parted for a second, as he stared at her chest. Leaning up on his elbows, he reached for the front snap of her bra. With one flick, her breasts spilled into his waiting hands. He groaned.
"Beautiful."
Jessi arched into him, her head back at the first touch of his mouth around one swollen nipple. He tugged gently, then increased the pressure, making her moan in turn.
"You like that, huh?"
She brought her head level to stare at him, not liking the smug expression on his face. "What do you think?"
The smirk widened. He leaned down, circling her nipple with his tongue, but keeping his eyes on her face. "Tell me."
She fought the tightening in her groin. She'd heard of women coming from having their breasts suckled, but she'd never experienced the phenomenon until now. Her jeans were soaked at the crotch, and she knew he could smell the musky arousal on her skin ‑‑ a testament to her need.
The smirk disappeared, to be replaced with an expression so feral that she shivered from the impression of a wild male animal staking claim to its mate. He tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her head back.
The first jolt of misgiving passed through her mind. She didn't know this man ‑‑ a professed vampire. She swallowed against the taste of fear in her throat. "Y-You know, this isn't such a good idea."
She felt a low rumble in his chest. God, was he growling?
His shoulders shook, then a burst of laughter surrounded her. Her mouth opened in surprise. He wasn't growling, he was laughing ... at her!
She shoved against his shoulders, ignoring the sting of her hands. "Get off me!"
His long body rolled to one side, and he fell to the floor, still laughing.
Jessi swung her legs over his head and planted her feet on the floor. She stood, not liking the quiver of her muscles, and jerked her jeans up and closed. She paced away from the sofa, then back, pointing her finger at him. "You did that shit on purpose, didn't you?"
He grinned up at her, then shrugged. "I wanted to see how far you'd go before you got scared."
"Scared?" His accurate description of what she'd felt made her hesitate. She shook her head and stood straighter. "I wasn't scared."
His gaze narrowed. He stood. "If you weren't, you need to be."
His long fingers smoothed over the top of his head where strands of black hair had escaped his ponytail.
Her fingers itched to feather through the silky mass. Instead, she curled them tight into a fist to resist the temptation. "I'm not frightened of you."
"No?" He stepped within an inch of her. His eyes widened, and the look he gave her prevented her from moving away.
Touch your clit.
Jessi gasped at the sound of his voice in her mind. He'd done this earlier at the club, but how? She squared her shoulders. "No."
The compulsion to do what he suggested increased, as did the intensity of his gaze. Her hands and arms shook, but she kept her fingers in tight fists against her thighs. She could see the muscles along his jaw clench and unclench with his concentration.
Touch ... your ... clit. Now!
She jumped at that last command. Before, the words had been mere whispers, running through her thoughts in such a way that she wasn't sure were real. But this last had resounded like a shout in her mind. She tried to fight the order, but found herself obeying what his voice had instructed.
She shut her eyes. I will not give in.
Her fingers unfurled on her right hand.
I will not ‑‑ her hand inched closer to the zip of her jeans ‑‑ give in.
A trickle of sweat beaded its way down the side of her face. She swallowed hard. I will not ... She gasped at the touch of her fingers against the throb of her clit. Her eyes snapped open. Drayden stood in front of her.
With a quick dip of his head, his lips brushed hers, then he stepped away from her, heading toward the door. Splinters surrounded the knob where he'd kicked the door in earlier to get to her.
"I'm not a gentle lover. I like my sex hot and rough." He turned. "I expect my lovers to submit to all my needs ... unconditionally."
The smugness disappeared to be replaced with a look of resignation. "You would be smart to be afraid." He turned the knob. "We can make you do whatever we want, whether you wish it or not."
Jessi watched him disappear. She slid down the wall to sit on the floor, wrapping her arms around her shaking legs.
Drip.
The annoying sound grew louder.
Drip.
She stepped around a large crate, which had been pushed against the side of the warehouse wall to make a clearing for whatever party had happened earlier. Debris, food, and liquor bottles littered the area. Out of the corner of her eye she could make out dark, furry shapes scurrying across the dusty concrete floor. She glanced to her right, then her left, in case one of the beasts decided she would make a good snack.
She rubbed her arms against the stale, damp air. The building smelled musty, like it hadn't been used in a while before tonight. Why was she here?
Drip.
Jessi squinted into the darkness, finally making out an indistinguishable shape a few feet in front of her. She swallowed around the knot in her throat, which grew larger with every step she took. She closed her eyes and ordered her feet not to move closer. She didn't want to know what the shape on the floor was.
"H-Hello?" Her voice echoed and crashed off the building's metal walls. A shrouded figure skulked forward from the shadows where the rats had dispersed, but wouldn't enter the circumference of dim light surrounding the lump in front of her.
She glanced at the form on the floor, then back to the figure. "W-Who are you?"
Drip.
"What do you want?"
The figure remained stationary, but an orb of gold and silver formed beside him, rotating in mid-air. The soft whir blended with the occasional drip from the lump on the floor. With each rotation, the orb grew larger and brighter; the drip grew louder and louder.
Jessi covered her ears. She shut her eyes tight, occasionally peeking at the rotating orb. Inside the circle, a solitary pentacle formed. The figure raised a hand and pointed at the lump on the floor. Look.
Jessi shook her head, terrified when she realized the thing hadn't spoken out loud, but in her mind.
Look!
Jessi turned toward the blob on the floor. Of their own volition, her feet moved forward. A soft, keening whine sounded from deep within her chest. She didn't want to know. She didn't want to see ... who ... lay in front of her.
The lump took the form of a body ‑‑ twisted and deformed in death ‑‑ chained like an animal to a metal U-bolt attached to the cement floor. Its sallow skin lay sunken around delicate bones. Dark shadows pitted beneath the corpse's eyes and cheekbones. Slashes, deep and angry, covered the once beautiful body. A container sat positioned beneath a gash in her neck to catch the last of her life-force ‑‑ one drip at a time. Oooh!
"Molly." Jessi whispered into the now icy air as recognition flashed through her, her breath emitting into a swirl of smoke. "Oh, my God. I'm so sorry."
She lowered to her knees beside her cousin. With trembling fingers she reached out and stroked the dead girl's hair, which lay mottled with dried blood, then searched for her hand. The feel of her skin, cold like gelatinous rubber, sent chills down Jessi's spine. She closed her eyes and would have let the hand drop, but all at once chains rattled and strong fingers gripped hers.
Jessi's eyes snapped open to stare into eyes, glazed over with the white film of death, centimeters from her face. A scream formed, but wouldn't release from her throat. Her horror forced her heart to skip a beat, then resume its wild tattoo.
As if in slow motion, the girl on the floor opened her mouth. Her breath was stale with the coppery odor of blood. Her hand reached up to caress Jessi's cheek.
Jessi turned her head and gagged against the smell and the sight of the deep puncture wounds in her cousin's chest. "Oh, God, please. Get me out of this!"
The corpse retained her grip on Jessi's hand and grasped her chin with the fingers of her other hand to turn Jessi's face.
Jessi watched the girl's mouth move to form unspoken words, which resonated in muffled tones through Jessi's mind. Fiiiind ... myyyy ... kiiiiillller.
"W-Who did this to you?"
The corpse's head crunched and turned around on its body to face the shrouded figure, who stepped out into the light.
Jessi pushed with her feet and tried to remove her hand from the girl's grasp, but the grip tightened. She glanced at the shrouded figure, not sure she could stomach anymore gruesome exploits.
The figure reached two hands up to remove its cowl, revealing an unknown face. Blue eyes burned fever-bright with madness, and a hideous snarl revealed a row of fangs, top and bottom ‑‑ the face of a killer vampire.
Jessi screamed.
Molly's answering scream turned to laughter. Her grasp on Jessi released. Jessi scooted across the dusty, dirty floor to the wall. Molly's head twisted. A pale finger pointed in Jessi's direction.
In a blur of motion, the vampire crouched in front of Jessi, his face close to hers. He nuzzled her cheek, then lower, against her neck. A taloned finger traced the front of her blouse to her breast.
Jessi shut her eyes tight and turned her head away from the vicious teeth, nipping her skin. A cold, wet tongue slid over the top of her breast ‑‑
"No!" She jerked and kicked to gain her freedom.
\*
Jessi woke with a start. Her heart pounded like a drum. It was just a dream.
"Hell, it was a fucking nightmare."
The room lay in darkness. The only light she could discern came from down the hallway. She left the kitchen utility light above the stove on every night in case she had to go to the bathroom. She listened for any sound out of the ordinary, but everything seemed normal. She released a deep sigh, but gave up hope of forgetting her nightmare. The scenes had been too real, too vivid. She shifted onto her hip.
"Ahh." Her entire body throbbed with pain. The memory of her cat fight and her fall rushed to greet her, followed by her escapade with Drayden. "Jeezy Pete, Jessi, could you royally fuck up any worse?"
Trying to keep from jarring her bruised joints any further, she scooted to the edge of the mattress and eased one leg at a time over the side. Standing took another five minutes. The bruise on her back had her hunched over, while the cuts on her hands and chin stung and pinched against the gauze that covered them. Taking small steps, she hobbled across the room and out into the hall on the way to the bathroom.
Her reflection in the bathroom mirror had her taking a second look. "Night of the Living Dead. Ugh."
Her hair lay in tangled strands around a pale face, with several reddened scratches on her chin and neck. She reached for her brush, then dropped it when her fingers tried to wrap around the handle. Pain lanced up her arm, and she grabbed her elbow. The cuts and bites throbbed. Her muscles had stiffened while asleep.
Not wanting to experience the pain of trying to grip her toothbrush, she squirted a dab of toothpaste on her finger and swished the minty gel around her mouth with a gulp of cold water, then spit the remains in the sink. Running hot water, she dabbed her fingers and scrubbed her eyes. Feeling a little more human, she made her way to the kitchen, not bothering with lights. Living alone had some rewards. She didn't have to trip over anyone else's mess when she came home or got up in the middle of the night.
The refrigerator hummed in the still night air. She pulled the door open and stared at a box of leftover pizza from three days before. "Yuk."
She stared for several more seconds, then lifted out a piece and grabbed a can of diet soda. Popping the top on the soda can, she headed for the living room, which lay in darker recessed shadows.
The phone rang; the pizza hit the floor.
"Damn!" Jessi rose on her tiptoes to keep the soda from spewing onto her bare feet. Shaking the carbonated drink from her fingers, she set the can on the counter and grabbed the phone.
"Yeah, what?"
A pause ensued that was followed by her new lieutenant's voice. "Do you usually answer the phone with such a pleasant attitude?"
Jessi bent over and picked the pizza off the floor. She turned to the dim light of the stove range and held her supper up for inspection. Pulling one piece of lint off her pepperoni, she took a bite. Between chews, she answered. "Yes, sir, I do when it's ‑‑" She looked at the clock on the oven and stifled a groan. "‑‑ two-thirty in the morning."
"You got anything for me, detective?" His slight humor had vanished, but that didn't faze Jessi.
"No, sir."
"Just what the hell have you been doing with that vampire hunter all week?"
"Konstantinos is not a vampire hunter, sir. He's an author on the occult view of vampires." She took another bite of pizza. "Real vampires."
"And?"
She cradled the phone with her shoulder and grabbed the soda. Taking a swig, she washed the pizza down her throat. "Well, we've visited most of the clubs where the vampire scene hang out, but haven't found any new leads on the suspect."
"What about Drayden Maslow?"
Her heart thudded to a stop. "W-What about him?" Surely the lieutenant didn't know that she and Dray‑‑
"Is he still a suspect?"
"No, sir, I don't think he had anything to do with the girl's murder." She bit her lip, but continued. "He does know something, though."
"Well, stick to him like glue. You hear? I want this case wrapped up in the next couple of weeks. It looks bad on the entire goth community." He sighed, and Jessi wondered if he was thinking of his daughter. "For the most part, they mind their own business and keep a low profile."
"Yes, sir." The phone went dead. She hung up the receiver. "Like glue."
Jessi turned toward the sink, and a sharp pain radiated from her butt into her hip and back. With a gasp, she reached back and massaged her right buttock with her fist. Feeling the knot ease up, she arched her back to stretch and ... burped.
"Excuse you."
"Holy shit!"
Jessi jumped at least a foot off the ground at the sound of the male voice coming from the shadows of the living room. "D-Drayden?"
Silence. "No. Were you expecting him?"
Konstantinos.
"You said you were going out."
"I did. Now I'm back." His tall form emerged from the dark, with his face illuminated by the glow of the stove light. Shadows lay, deep and eerie, beneath his eyes and cheekbones. He looked downright ... spooky.
Jessi swallowed hard and tried to force her heart to quiet. The fact he'd been sitting there watching her all this time ...
"Uh, you didn't see ‑‑?" She pointed toward the pizza and the phone.
"Everything."
"Everything?"
He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her over to the sofa. "From you eating pizza off the floor to you scratching your ass."
"I did not scratch my ass."
"That's what it looked like from where I was sitting." His deep voice held a heavy note of humor.
Great! Now she had two goths laughing at her. She shrugged his arm off and sat down. "I didn't hear you knock." She frowned. "How'd you get in?"
He sat in the chair next to the sofa. "I did knock, but you didn't answer, so I tried the handle. Your door has been damaged."
"Yeah." She took a bite of pizza, stifling a smile at his visible cringe. So, he didn't eat off the floor ‑‑ that was good to know. "Drayden busted it earlier."
"Drayden?"
She saw his body stiffen in the darkness.
"Why did he bust your door in ... and what happened to your hands?" He sat beside her in a blink of an eye. "What did he do to you?"
The low menace in his voice shivered over her, and for a second all she could do was sit there and stare at him. She remembered to chew. When the last bit had been swallowed, she shook her head.
"He didn't do anything."
A black brow rose and his gaze traveled to her bandages.
"Oh, it's nothing. A cat attacked me after you dropped me off."
"A cat?"
She heard the note of disbelief in his voice. "Yes, an alley cat. I heard a noise ‑‑"
"So, naturally, you went to investigate."
"Yes."
"Of course." His hand came up into the air, then fell back onto his thigh. "You need a keeper."
"What?"
"You are not in Podunk, Mississippi. You are in New York City, dammit."
"I know where the hell I am, thank you." She couldn't decide which rankled more, his cutting tone about her state or her inability to take care of herself.
"Then use some common sense, Jessi."
"I am." She stood up. "Get the hell out of my house."
He didn't move.
She stamped her foot. "Now."
His response pissed her off more. He leaned back against sofa and stretched his arms across the back.
"Arghh! You two are the most stubborn, irritating men I've ever met." She turned toward the kitchen. Took two steps and slipped in the cola she'd spilled. That made her angrier. Walking on the heel of her socked foot, she hobbled into the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel, mumbling all the way.
"Frickin' Yankee men."
"Hey, now."
She heard the irritated note, but ignored it. Down on her knees, she wiped the floor. Her head came up. "Frickin' goth Yankee men."
That got him up. He towered above her crouched form. This time his voice wasn't just irritated. A warning, crisp as the night air, could be heard loud and clear.
"I don't appreciate that."
She bit her lip, looked at the floor, and wiped. "Yeah, well, I don't appreciate you saying I can't take care of myself just because I'm from Podunk, Mississippi." She swiped the floor again, letting the towel swing wide and hit his boot.
His hands curled into fists, but he didn't say anything.
"I'm from Hattiesburg." Even to her ears, her words were low and soft. She doubted he heard her. These guys treated her like she might break. Granted, they towered over her, but she was tougher than she looked. Here, they didn't call her little lady like the men did at home, but they still refused to acknowledge her abilities. She'd always heard how northern men were more liberal and respectful in regards to women's rights.
What a crock! Men were men. They liked to think they were in control.
His long legs bent, and he squatted in front of her with his hands on either side of his knees against the floor, balancing his large frame. "I know where you're from."
"Yeah?" She looked into his eyes. The humor and the anger had disappeared.
He nodded. "I am angry, because I should have walked you to your door, or at least made sure you got in safely before I left."
She stiffened as she felt her irritation build, but he held up his hand.
"Normally, I wouldn't argue the fact that you can take care of yourself, but you need a protection spell, like I said earlier." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "Witches and vampires are real. Spells are real. Psychic possession is real."
She hesitated to commit to what he wanted to do. His world didn't make sense to her. She thought of the people she'd met in the clubs this week. Surely not all of them were living in a world of delusion that consisted of witches, vampires, and demons. Neither Konstantinos nor Drayden was insane.
A sigh slipped past her lips with the memory of Drayden, invading her thoughts, giving her orders. Then there was the nightmare with the feel of her cousin's dead skin and the smell of her decaying breath.
She wrapped her arms around herself, not sure she should tell Konstantinos she thought her cousin had been communicating with her. He'd have a field day with that tidbit of information.
Konstantinos gave a chuckle. "I promise it won't hurt."
Jessi wiped her hands on the thighs of her pajama pants. "Okay."
She hoped Aunt Mae didn't find out she'd dabbled in witchcraft. The old woman already swore Jessi was headed straight for hell because she'd divorced her husband ‑‑ a hard-working, God-fearing man ‑‑ and worked at a job that traditionally belonged to men. No one had wanted to hear how that same husband had beat her up every chance he'd gotten, because she had forgotten to buy his beer, or hadn't scrubbed the bathroom just so.
"Good. First, we have to take a bath."
Konstantinos's voice brought her back to the situation at hand. "What?"
"To purify or clear away some of the daily negatives we've accumulated."
She nodded. Seemed like she remembered that in his book.
"I'll run our water."
He stood, then moved toward the hall, but she grabbed his arm.
"Our? Oh, no, buddy boy. I'm not taking a bath with you."
"It will save time." He looked over at the stove clock. "It is already past three o'clock."
"So?" Jessi crossed her arms and angled her head. She'd give him an "A" for originality. She'd never heard that excuse before.
He sighed. "The optimal psychic quiet time."
When she didn't respond, he looked like he wanted to strangle her. Instead, he continued in a soft voice, like he was trying to explain how to do something to a child. Jessi refused to get upset. She truly didn't understand this stuff. She listened to his words and the hypnotic quality of his voice.
"The hours of three to five in the morning are the best times to perform magick. The nocturnal ether helps to maintain your circle. It is the substance you will be using to mold your spell."
"W-Wait." She stood straighter. "I thought you were doing the spell, not me."
"It's your protection spell. You have to do it ... with my help."
"I'm not a witch."
"Doesn't matter. I can show you step-by-step what to do."
She watched him turn and stride into the hallway. The sound of the bath water erupted into the stillness of the early morning. She puffed up her cheeks and blew the air out, slowly, then bit her lip, not sure if she could go through with this. She had to perform the magick, not him. She frowned.
The sound of running water stopped; Konstantinos didn't step back into the hallway for several minutes. She hoped he'd decided to bathe without her. A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed what she knew was nervousness at the unknown. Everything came down to what she could accept to be real. Did she believe in magick? Were there really witches and vampires?
Her mind conjured the lifeless form of the murdered victim ‑‑ her cousin. The muscle in her jaw tightened.
"Jessi, everything's ready. I went ahead and performed the banishing rite."
Jessi looked at the ceiling, but saw no divine inspiration to tell her what to do. She looked back at him, bit her lip, then sighed. "Okay, Aunt Mae, I guess I'm about to find out if I'm going to hell, or not."
With those whispered words, she took a step toward the unknown.
The bathroom felt smaller with Konstantinos's large frame standing behind her. Candles were lit and positioned around the space, and the overhead lights were off. The atmosphere smacked of intimacy.
"Um, I can't do this." She shook her head and stepped back, bumping into him, like a brick wall.
"We've already discussed this."
"No, you discussed this."
"I've seen a woman's body before. Many times."
"I just know you have." She turned to him. There was no way around him. His body took up the entire space that served as an entrance. "You haven't seen me, though."
He grinned. "There's always the first time for everything."
She smiled and stepped closer to him. The heat from his body radiated in strong waves across her skin. Jessi put her hands on his chest. She watched his eyes narrow, then his grin intensify.
His stance relaxed, and she took the advantage. With her feet planted, she shoved him hard. He staggered back into the hallway. She slammed the door in his surprised face and turned the lock.
"Jessi."
"I'll be out in a second."
"You need me to instruct you."
"I'm twenty-eight. I think I know how to bathe myself."
She heard his exaggerated sigh as he leaned against the door.
"Not this way, you don't."
"You can tell me through the door."
"You don't trust me."
It was a statement, not a question. She paused. "I do, but not without clothes. I've seen you in action, Romeo."
His laugh sounded, warm and deep, through the barrier between them. "Are you naked?"
His voice had lost the humor and taken on a deeper, seductive tone. She knew she'd done the right thing. He couldn't help coming on to every female that happened along his path. He was a born charmer.
"Yes."
"Jessi ‑‑"
"No. It's not going to happen. We work together."
"Temporarily. What about afterwards?"
Jessi thought of Drayden. Her heart ached. Another man she couldn't allow to get too close. Their acquaintance was a fleeting piece of time; then she'd return to Hattiesburg ‑‑ alone. She didn't do casual affairs. "We're friends, and that's all it's gonna be."
Silence. "Okay. We're friends."
Jessi slipped into the water, letting the warmth ease into her tired and aching joints. She looked at the gauze on her hands, which left only her fingers free to wash.
"Um, what do I do?"
"The water is an energy field. Imagine that field surrounding you."
She listened to his voice take on that hypnotic quality he used, and sat back. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and relaxed into the warmth. She pictured her body, but it wasn't, really. The form she observed was more ethereal than physical. Her skin tingled as the energy field washed around her.
"Can you see your astral body?"
"Yes." Her heart rate increased. She held out her hand and observed a white glow, ebbing and flowing around her whenever she breathed. She really did see it.
"Okay, look at your astral body for any dark spots that stand out."
A few seconds passed while she examined her aura, turning her hands and arms this way and that. "I don't see anything."
"Good. Now, repeat several times, with your eyes closed, 'I am shielded from all psychic attack; I am protected from all harm.'"
She closed her eyes and repeated the phrases he told her, feeling the glow tighten around her, like a protective glove. After the third repetition, she sighed.
"Do you feel clean?"
"Yes."
"Then you're through."
"That's it?" She couldn't keep the surprise from her voice. He hadn't lied. It hadn't hurt a bit, and she hadn't experienced anything horrifying except a slight dazed feeling when she'd been studying her aura. She rubbed her forehead where a dull pressure throbbed.
"For this part, anyway."
Jessi smothered a groan. She should have known there was more to this than taking a bath. She stood, and water ran from her body in rivulets. She grabbed a thick towel and wrapped it around her damp skin. After she dried, she slipped her pajamas on. When she opened the door, Konstantinos stood there with one arm propped on the frame, shaking his head.
"My turn." He moved to pass her. "Go get a glass of milk and eat something while you watch television. Don't think about what just happened. Okay?"
She nodded.
\*
He joined her several minutes later, sitting on the sofa next to her. He took her hand in his. Jessi turned from the infomercial and stared down at their entwined fingers. She frowned.
"You okay?"
His voice sounded miles and miles away. Her gaze traveled up to his face. A buzzing sound filled her ears, and she blinked to keep him in focus. His mouth moved, but she couldn't understand the words. She watched him raise his hand in front of her face in slow motion.
He snapped his fingers.
She jumped, then looked around. "W-What happened?"
He shrugged. "I brought you back."
"From where?" Why did she feel hazy?
He smiled. "You didn't eat, did you?"
"No." She shook her head. "There's nothing in the fridge except the leftover pizza I was eating earlier."
"During the ritual, you were in an altered state of consciousness, like a person under hypnosis. To help bring you out of that state, you need something ordinary to do, like eating."
"You hypnotized me?" She sat forward, not believing he'd done this to her.
"Calm down." He pushed her back into the cushions. "You did it yourself. The thought processes needed for the cleansing and protection rite, or any magick, require you to think beyond the norm."
"So, magick's not real. It's just a figment of the imagination."
He picked up what was left of her cold pizza and took a bite. "Oh, it's real. It just requires imagination to work."
"So, I'm protected now? Just from a bath?"
"That was the cleansing rite. You need to settle back and get comfortable."
"Why? What are you going to do?"
"Nothing." He shook his head. "You are going to picture your astral body again, but this time with spikes extending outward to ward off any psychic attack that comes your way."
Jessi leaned back and closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths to relax.
"Now, picture your astral body."
She did, but this time the white glow came quicker to mind. "Okay."
"With each exhalation let the glow expand until it reaches two feet away from you."
She exhaled and watched the glow extend, again and again. When it had reached the designated two feet, she breathed in and held her breath for a second. When she exhaled this time, the shield stayed in place.
"Good. You need to picture needles extending all around the shield, like a porcupine."
"Hmm, got it." She kept her eyes shut, and the aura glowed brighter. "I am protected; I am shielded."
"Good."
The surprised note in Konstantinos's voice scratched the edge of her consciousness, but she didn't stop her visualization. Next, she focused on the needles growing into long spikes.
"You should be seeing spikes right about now."
"Yeah."
"Repeat three times, 'These spikes shall repel all harm, by day and night.'"
She did as he instructed, seeing the spikes all around her embedded into the white glow of her aura. A sense of peace and security passed through her. She smiled.
"That's it. Let the shield come back to your body, but know the spikes are there to protect you whenever your psyche feels threatened."
"Okay." Her aura shrank to resemble the outline of her body, then faded altogether. She opened her eyes to find Konstantinos staring at her with a look of pride.
"You're a natural. You knew what to do without my help."
"I wouldn't say that." A rush of pleasure encased her at his words. Warmth crept up her throat into her face. It wasn't often she heard praise from a man, at least not for her capabilities.
He handed her a piece of cold pizza and a can of soda. "Eat. We have work to do."
She bit into the hardened crust that tasted like cardboard, taking a gulp of soda to wash the unsavory meal down. "Like what?"
"Grocery shopping, for starters." He threw the pizza crust back into the box. "This is pitiful."
Jessi laughed. "I like you."
"I like you, too." His shoulder bumped hers in a playful thump. "Sure you just want to be friends?"
She bumped him back. "Positive."
He shrugged. "Ah, well, I tried."
\*
Grocery shopping wasn't all they did that morning. Jessi held the cropped burgundy velvet top up to herself and grimaced at her reflection. The sight of her new hairstyle caught her eye. "Good God, what have I done?"
Her long chestnut-colored hair hung loose around her face ‑‑ darkened now to black with burgundy highlights. She swallowed, wondering what Drayden would think of the "new" her. She quickly squashed that thought and focused on her disguise. Konstantinos had sworn this was the "in" goth look. She'd be able to enter any of the clubs without being conspicuous in her normal attire of jeans and tennis shoes.
When she'd continued to debate the issue, he'd turned her around to face the mirror. "Look at yourself. You are a one-hundred-percent prime goth babe. The killer will be coming after you instead of vice versa."
She fingered the ends of her hair. The texture was soft and silky. She studied her complexion ... the color brought out the smoothness of her skin. She'd always wanted long black hair when she was younger. Now, she had it.
"Not bad, Detective Tanner. Not bad at all."
She looked at the leather skirt they'd bought, and her doubts resurfaced. She didn't have much experience wearing skirts and fishnet hose. Her new boots were several inches high, too. She hoped she could pull this off without breaking her neck.
"I'll find out soon enough."
She glanced at the clock, which read nine-fifteen. Konstantinos had told her to meet him at Club Arcadia at ten-thirty. Picking up her new thong underwear, she headed to the shower, determined not to be late. She planned on turning up some leads tonight in this case, one way or another.
Jessi glanced at her watch. Eleven o'clock. Where the hell was he? She hugged her arms tighter around her middle. The moisture from her breath produced a fine vapor in the cold air. Moving her legs and stamping her feet, she tried to generate some warmth in her feet and legs. The frost of the night bit into her skin through her fishnet hose.
"Fuck this." She glanced at her watch one more time. "I'm going inside."
A couple entered in front of her. A blast of music assailed her ears; she was grateful for the warmth of the club's interior. The same girl from her last visit checked their coats.
Jessi took her stub and slipped it into the tiny pocket in the side of her skirt. She released a sigh of relief when the girl didn't recognize her. Her confidence increased at the thought that her disguise had been worth the trouble. She needed to blend so she could try to gather some pertinent piece of information that might lead her to the killer. She'd have to watch her drawl for sure. The times Konstantinos had taken her out to the various clubs, she had listened to the accents around her. If she kept her discussions brief, she might be able to pull her illusion off. She intended to get into Drayden's office tonight, too. How, she hadn't quite figured out. There had to be files on these people.
Inching her way forward through the heavy throng of people, she headed for the bar. Ten minutes later, she crawled onto a stool to face the bartender. This guy was definitely not Drayden Maslow. She breathed a sigh of relief. Her luck must be holding.
Blue hair hung down the guy's back, but on top of his head he wore a Mohawk dyed red and black. Jessi tried not to let her surprise and horror show in her expression. She smiled. "Hi."
She had to yell over the din of voices and goth music. DJs worked at the edge of the dance floor, spinning tunes. She recognized a couple of the groups ‑‑ Type O-Negative and Sisters of Mercy ‑‑ from her previous outings with Konstantinos.
A new song began, which she didn't recognize, but liked the beat.
"What's that group?"
The bartender studied her for a second. "Torrent Vaccine."
She snapped her fingers. "Oh, yeah. That's right."
She hoped he bought her act of forgetfulness. Truth told, she'd never heard of the group before. The goth music she'd heard over the last week sounded loud and angry ‑‑ not the soothing tones she usually listened to back home.
"Seraphim Shock will be here next week." He wiped a glass, then held it up to the dim light.
"Great!" Who? "I'll have to make sure I'm here."
The bartender jerked his chin up. "Whadaya have?"
Hell. She hadn't thought about drinking. "Club soda."
She had to give the bartender credit. His only response was a lift to his heavily pierced eyebrow before he loaded a glass with ice cubes, filled it with soda, and slid it to her. He leaned on his elbows toward her.
Jessi took a sip of her drink and let her glance peruse the crowd. She could feel his interest, like a physical touch. She barely prevented a visible shudder.
"Nice outfit."
"Um." She missed the edge of the glass, and soda spilled down onto her skirt. "Thanks. You got a napkin?"
When he handed her the napkin, she inched off the stool, deciding it was time to mingle. He wasn't bad-looking, but he didn't quite meet her standards. And would those standards revolve around a certain six-foot-four vampire? She kicked her subconscious and argued the fact.
Just because the man can rock my world with a kiss, doesn't mean jack. But it sure as hell helps. She groaned, knowing she couldn't win a losing battle. She wanted Drayden Maslow on a gut level she'd never experienced, whether he happened to drink other people's blood or not.
Ugh. She shook her head, not sure she could accept that aspect of these people's lives. Aunt Mae would have a field day with this assignment, even if she found her cousin's killer. In the Bible Belt, everything was either "good" or "bad." Nothing gray or in-between. Jessi could feel the flames growing hotter and hotter.
She weaved her way to the two lone pool tables squeezed into an area off to the side of the stage, like they had been an afterthought. A second, smaller bar stood vacant in the corner of the space. She eased over and found a stool, turning her body so she could watch the dance floor and the players.
A cue ball cracked against the other balls.
She jerked her head up at the sound, her attention snagged.
Two men and a woman around her age were playing a game of eight ball. The girl took turns with one of the men, indicating they were a couple. The lines of her face were pretty, from what Jessi could see beneath the layers of pale makeup and heavy mascara. Her black lip liner and lipstick didn't help.
Jessi studied the girl's stance and form. She tamped down the urge to get up and bring the girl's elbow in closer to her body and turn her wrist down instead of at the forty-five-degree angle she maintained.
The girl shot and missed; Jessi cringed; the boyfriend yelled.
"What the fuck kinda shot was that?" He jerked the stick out of the girl's hands. "I got fifty bucks riding on this game."
Jessi's gaze narrowed at the hurt on the girl's face. This is none of your business. This is none of your ... She stepped down and stood beside the couple.
"I'll bet you fifty that me and ‑‑" She looked at the girl.
"Trish."
"I bet you fifty, Trish and I can stomp your two sorry asses into the ground."
The other guy snorted. "Take the bet."
He walked up to her and stopped. White contacts covered the true color of his eyes, while white makeup covered his face. He leaned down to within an inch of her face. Black outlined both eyes and his lips. His t-shirt read I eat little girls like you for lunch. He sniffed like he was memorizing her scent.
Jessi resisted the urge to lay the Manson wannabe out across the pool table. Little did he know that his show of intimidation had only served to piss her off more.
Trish looked at her boyfriend, doubled over and laughing, then back at Jessi. Her mouth pursed and her eyes narrowed. "Yeah, we're gonna ... stomp ... your asses into the ground."
"Okay, bitches, you're on. We'll even let you break."
"Yeah, that should be ... interesting." The guys laughed again.
Trish walked over to Jessi. She leaned close, like she wanted to tell Jessi something. Jessi bent down.
"Stomp?"
"Uh, picked it up from my mom. She's from ... Jersey."
"Oh." The girl stepped back, smiled, and held out her hand. "I'm Trish."
Jessi took the proffered hand, noting Trish's long red nails. She glanced over at the two guys. Their nails were even longer and painted black. She made a mental note to ask Konstantinos what the deal with long nails was. "I'm Jessi. Nice to meet you."
"Oh, what happened?"
Jessi moved her hand behind her back, embarrassed over the clear bandages she'd covered her cuts and scratches with earlier. At least the new bandages looked better than the gauze. "Nothing, just some scratches from a cat."
"Do you really think we can beat them?" Trish frowned, looking at Jessi's hands.
"Sure, but I need to show you some things first."
A wary expression replaced Trish's smile. Jessi reached to take her arm, but Trish stepped back. Jessi eased her hand past Trish and picked up Trish's cue stick, instead. Damn. I forgot they're not very trusting.
"I just want to show you an easier way to hold the pool cue so it won't feel so awkward to you, if you don't mind."
Trish nodded, slowly. "Okay."
"First, spread your feet further apart, like this." Jessi bent toward the table, spreading her legs in a stance no one wearing a miniskirt and thong underwear should attempt. The leather rode high on her thighs. She ignored her discomfort and prayed she wasn't showing more than a little leg.
"Now, before you shoot, you want to bring your elbow close to your body and angle your wrist down, not out. You'll have better control over the shot. See?"
Jessi curled her left forefinger and thumb around the center of the pool cue, resting her last three fingers against the felt of the table. A sharp throb burned her cuts, but she ignored the discomfort when the boyfriend eased up behind her. The heat of his body seeped through to her back. She tensed, but didn't break her form.
"Nice ... assets."
She focused on the cue ball, ignoring the taunts from their opponents. She intended to show them a thing or two. She hadn't spent the first twelve years of her life growing up in the back of a pool hall, eating oysters on the half-shell and listening to Hank Williams and Tammy Wynette, for nothing. She'd been trained by the best pool sharks from New Orleans to Memphis, including her daddy.
"It's all ..." Sliding the pool cue forward and back several times to get a bead on the ball, she gripped the stick tighter with one last pull back, then forward ‑‑ quick. The momentum of the cue pushed by her upper body strength focused on the pinpointed spot. The cue ball exploded against the rack, sending multi-colored balls, solid and striped, in all directions. Six balls in all found their way into the side pockets. "... in the wrist."
"Holy ... did you see that?" The boyfriend elbowed Mansonite boy, who choked on his beer.
Jessi straightened and smiled sweetly. "I think we get to choose what we'd like to be." Jessi handed the cue back to her partner, who stared at her like she'd found a new hero. "Trish, love, what do you like better? Stripes or solids?"
Trish's pale face lit up with a smile. "I like stripes."
Jessi sipped her soda and idled over to the empty table next to theirs. Setting the drink beneath the table, she chalked her hands to aid in a clean slide of the cue. She selected a new stick from the cue stand and held it out in front of her, closing one eye. First, she looked down the barrel. Hmm, seems straight.
She rolled the stick across the table, watching to see if it warbled. When it did, she replaced it in the stand and went through the process again until she found the cue stick she wanted. She looked up to see her three companions watching her, their mouths open in astonishment. Behind them, a small crowd had gathered. Jessi smiled. More witnesses for the slaughter.
"Then stripes it is."
\*
"She's good." The bartender across the club looked at the man sitting in front of him.
"No, she's fucking fine." Nolan watched the woman his brother had kissed. His cock swelled within the confines of his leather pants. "And I want her."
"Drayden might have something to say about that."
The bartender didn't have time to blink before Nolan's taloned hand snaked out and latched onto his throat, digging the sharpened nails in deep. The man's words of protest coughed and gurgled in his throat as Nolan brought him closer to his face.
"I am in control here, not my brother. Understand?"
The bartender nodded, turning blue beneath his white makeup.
"Good." Nolan released the fool with a shove. "Now, fix me another drink."
"Y-Yes, sir."
Two seconds later, the bartender returned with a glass of water and a bottle of emerald-green liquid. Carefully, he spooned sugar into the water and poured the green liqueur over it before stirring the concoction. The emerald color turned an opaque white. He set the drink in front of Nolan, but didn't move away.
Nolan looked sideways, slowly, without moving his head. He didn't want to miss a move of the woman bent over the pool table. Her burgundy cropped top molded high, firm breasts and exposed a flat abdomen made more interesting by a pierced belly button. Black fishnet stockings hugged long, slender legs disappearing into the tops of knee-high combat boots. The outline of her backside in the leather skirt triggered pictures of him behind her, driving his cock into her ass, deeper and deeper. Oh, how he'd make her scream.
The bartender still hadn't moved away.
"What?" Nolan demanded.
The bartender jumped at the unexpected question.
Nolan grinned and closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the power that another's fear gave him. He watched the way the bartender's Adam's apple moved up and down. He had the wimp nervous and scared.
"You do know that absinthe has been proven toxic, don't you ... sir?"
"Ha!" Nolan took the glass and downed the bitter liqueur in three gulps. When he reached the end, he sucked air through clenched teeth. The rush he received outweighed any chances of toxicity. "Tell me something I don't know."
He slammed the glass down on the counter. "Bring me the bottle."
The bartender disappeared into a room behind the bar where Nolan knew Drayden kept the more exotic liquors. In a matter of seconds, the man returned to set a new bottle in front of Nolan and handed him another glass of water.
Nolan mixed the water with absinthe, liking the way the illegal liqueur swirled as it settled. Green, like the eyes of Drayden's bitch.
He looked back at the woman, shooting pool. Correction. My bitch, when all is said and done. She might not be willing, but that hadn't stopped him before. The image of the young woman in Hattiesburg rose in his mind. He frowned.
His gaze narrowed on her. With her hair dyed black, she looked a lot like ...
"Couldn't be." He closed his eyes to picture his last "donor." He traced the outline of her still body with his mind ‑‑
She laughed!
His eyes snapped open and he focused on her. The laugh sounded the same. The lips smiled the same, and she had the same ... green eyes. Had his prey returned to haunt him?
"No, this one's older." He watched the woman study the table in front of her, plotting her strategy to ensure the downfall of the two idiots challenging her. Of course, she'd win. He acknowledged a warped sense of pride at the same time his cock throbbed harder with need. "My prey are always the best at everything they do."
The little bitch in Hattiesburg had been the best at begging. He threw his head back to swallow another gulp. His ears rang. Tonight he'd hear the voices. He closed his eyes, willing his demons to come closer and possess him so he could perform his greatest magick yet. A laugh erupted from his chest, deep and threatening.
When he lowered his head, his gaze connected with hers. He stared, widening his eyes, challenging her to find out who and what he was. He smiled, rose, then strode from the main room through the back door, knowing curiosity would bring Drayden's woman to him.
\*
This was sooo fun. Jessi couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed a game of pool more. The two male goths had started the match with such superior attitudes. Now she watched them sweat, waiting for a chance to claim the table. She shifted her weight back and forth on her feet to obtain the maximum stance for the final shot.
"Eight ball in the right corner pocket."
"Shit. She even knows to call the last pocket!" Trish's boyfriend shoved his hands into his pants pockets, like a pouting boy.
Jessi pulled back and shot. The white cue ball crashed into the solitary black ball. Straight as an arrow, the eight ball zinged down the table into the corner pocket. She held her hand up, and Trish gave her a high-five.
The goth who had tried to threaten her with his looks turned his body in an angry semi-circle, with a string of profanity following. His brows in a scowl, he marched over to her and pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. He shoved the bills at her. "We don't like hustlers around here."
Jessi counted the money with pointed accuracy. "Neither do I."
Behind them rose, "Oooo."
She watched the infuriated man storm from the game area to disappear into the dark perimeters of the room where small tables, each lit by a single votive, stood along the walls. A small wave of guilt assailed her. She should have been casing the place instead of playing pool. Her cousin's family wanted answers and justice.
She glanced around to see a few solitary goths dancing in the open space designated for the dance floor. The DJ had a setup in the far corner of the floor. Nothing suspicious there. She eased her head around to the bar, trying to look nonchalant. Since New York City had banned smoking, she had a clear shot of the bar. Nothing there but lively chatter and a few flamboyant arm movements where a guy demonstrated something to his amused companions. She scanned back into the darkened perimeter.
Wait ... Her gaze snagged on a lone male figure at the bar, laughing at some private joke. Their eyes met, and a strange sensation shivered down her neck and spine. The man's gaze narrowed, like Drayden's had done the night before. He smiled.
Her skin tingled and pricked as a sense of pure evil flooded her senses. The light touched his face, and she froze. The guy from my dream.
She took a step toward him.
"Jessi."
She turned toward Trish, but kept the man in her peripheral vision. He rose and headed out of the main club area.
"Trish, I gotta go. Here." She shoved the wad of cash at her new friend.
"I can't take all of this. You won most of it."
Jessi had already crossed half the dance floor. She waved a hand at Trish. "It's okay. I won it for you." She looked back at her friend. "Don't let him treat you like that."
Trish nodded. Jessi felt certain the girl understood what she meant. Jessi had learned the hard way with her ex-husband that no one should be allowed to speak to another human being like they were dirt beneath their shoes. She gave Trish a smile, then hurried after the mysterious stranger. She didn't know how, but the dream had been from Molly. Jessi had just made contact with the killer.
As the door closed, the music evaporated, to be replaced by the beat of more music coming from down the hall. Jess reached for the little black purse containing her gun, but didn't pull the weapon. Technically, she was an observer ‑‑ a guest of the NYPD ‑‑ and shouldn't be carrying a weapon.
The strap crossed over one shoulder, leaving the purse on her right side. She unsnapped the flap, letting her hand rest against the cool leather. Her outfit had proved lacking in more ways than one. There had been no reliable spots to hide a weapon. Even her combat boots were too tight to squeeze a smaller piece into the side.
Jessi squinted in the dim light of the narrow hallway. She counted at least two closed doors, which looked like they belonged in an ancient dungeon, with heavy metal hinges and locks. She didn't want to dwell on the unknown possibilities of what lay behind such fortified portals.
She glanced around for another type of weapon, but couldn't see anything worth using. Her gaze caught and centered on the red glow emanating from gothic sconces in the shape of dragons with miniature swords crossed behind them.
What the heck. She reached up and grasped the handle of a sword, knowing the chance that it could be real would be slim. She pulled, expecting resistance. Her weight carried her back a couple of steps. An eight-inch dagger slid from the metal scabbard.
Her eyebrows rose. "I'll be damned." These guys were more paranoid than she about protection. Her proficiency with a knife left much to be desired, but she did feel safer with some sort of weapon in her hand. She eased forward, drawing level with the first door. She took a deep breath and tried the knob.
Locked.
She turned her head and heard a soft murmur. At first she thought her heart had gone into overdrive, but soon realized the low whispers and music came from across the hall behind the second door. She clasped the dagger with both hands. Turning her head from left to right, she proceeded across the narrow space.
Her back to the wall, she slid into a squatting position. Fingers tightened around her weapon, as she turned and peered through the ancient keyhole.
Nothing. A sliver of light seeped through the space. She squinted and shifted her body into a better angle. A slight breeze brushed her back where her shirt left her skin bare.
Jessi turned to see someone in a black robe looming above her as a swish of soft velvet touched her calf. She gasped, preparing to block a blow with her raised arm. After a second of no impact, she lowered her arm.
She curled her body into a ball and rolled twice before she came up to her feet with the dagger at ready. Her knees bent in a crouch for attack, but there wasn't anyone there. She blinked, then glanced back and forth down the hall from the direction she'd come. The red glow from the hall sconces had been extinguished, leaving everything pitch black. A movement behind her showed her error.
Never leave a blind eye to your back. She responded too late. The arm snaked around her waist, and her body lifted into the air.
With a hard thud, her assailant threw her back against the far wall. Air whooshed from her lungs, and the dagger flew from her hand to clatter down the tiled floor. Before she could think of a counterattack, he forced her around, slamming her cheek and breasts against the same wall.
Pain exploded from the point of her temple in a pattern of stars and sparks behind her eyelids. She tried to kick her foot up and back to crush down on her attacker's foot, but found she couldn't move an inch.
The male body holding her captive radiated strength and heat. The scent of clove cigarettes clung to his skin ‑‑ sweet ... and, suddenly, sickening. A shaft of pain and light streaked through her mind, but she fought not to lose consciousness. She blinked hard, focusing on her breathing.
In and out. A ringing sound vibrated in her ears. A floating sensation spread through her arms and legs. The rush of a hard, hot breath brushed against her ear. She swallowed the saliva gathering in her mouth.
A wave of panic hit at being unable to defend herself. She couldn't abide being held down and helpless. Thoughts of her cousin, Molly, and how she must have suffered during her last hour of life, floated through her mind.
The murder scene played over and over with Molly's lifeless body stretched out and chained to the floor. The killer had been very precise with how he had cut her. The coroner's words echoed through her mind ‑‑ the perpetrator had used a razor blade to produce shallow cuts to Molly's breasts, inner forearms, and inner thighs, where he then sipped at the small trickles of blood produced.
According to the lividity left from the incisions, the killer had progressed over a period of hours to the deeper, more punctured wounds in her wrists and neck to allow the girl's blood to flow freely. These had indicated the use of ... fangs.
Isn't ... going to ... happen to me. A low moan escaped Jessi's throat at the possibility. Her knees buckled at the same instant she felt an invisible wall surround her and suck her in. "Can't ... pass ... out."
The pressure against her chest eased, slightly.
"Jessi?" The deep voice held a note of disbelief.
She struggled through the fog to recognize where she'd heard that voice ... "D-Drayden?"
Immediately, the weight pinning her to the wall lifted, and she sucked some much needed oxygen into her lungs. His hands gripped her upper arms and turned her to face him, but he didn't let her go. The vice grip tightened, and she clamped her teeth together to stop from crying out. Her legs were too weak to sustain her weight. If he let go, she'd fall. Her hands clutched his arms for support.
"What the hell are you doing sneaking around back here?"
Too lightheaded to speak, she could only stare up into the shadows where she sensed his face. She felt more than saw him step back, then reach above her to the left.
A click coincided with a dim flood of light over her face. She squinted up at him to see the dark, hooded cloak covering his head. He must have seen her distress, because he bent and scooped her up into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck in an instinctual move. Cradling her against his chest, he knocked with a sharp rap on the door three times. Jessi laid her head on his shoulder.
"Damned dangerous job you have, Detective."
Jessi snorted, keeping her eyes closed. "This coming from someone who ..." She had to stop and catch her breath. "... drinks other people's blood?"
"We use lancets or razor blades on non-vital areas of the body. It is no more than a drop here or there."
Razor blades. Jessi shuddered.
The heavy wood opened, slowly, and creaked like the lid to a coffin. The spindly spider legs of fear crept over her skin. She eased her head off his shoulder, her eyes widening as she peered into a deep, dark abyss. The scent of cloves intensified, as did the heavy throb of eerie music accentuated by the beat of drums.
"Ever hear of AIDS or hepatitis?" She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat at the sweet smell. Marijuana affected her the same way. She vaguely wondered if the two could be blended into the cigarettes being smoked.
"Vampires screen their donors."
A suffocating presence of gloom and oppression wrapped around her throat, making further speech impossible. With the images of Molly still fresh in her mind, Jessi kicked her legs and pushed at Drayden's shoulders. "No! Don't take me in there."
"Stop!" Drayden's whisper was harsh as he grasped her writhing body closer. What the hell was wrong with her? Her heart beat ninety to nothing beneath his hand, and tremors radiated through her body. She's scared.
"I'm not going to hurt you." He forced his voice to a lower, calmer note, hoping she would respond to his power of vocal persuasion. If he had more light, he'd make her look at him and use his gaze to ease her fears, but at the moment he couldn't help the darkness. There were others present, who deserved privacy to pursue their appetites and quench their more carnal needs. "We're just passing through a private part of the club on the way to my apartment."
The warmth of her body melted against him. He breathed a sigh of relief that she had relaxed, but with that relief also came an awareness of how little she had covering the enticing curves of her body.
He had one arm around her shoulders, his hand cupping one firm breast, while his other arm supported the weight of her thighs. From the pattern of the hose cutting into his forearm, he guessed she wore fishnet stockings.
Drayden ground his teeth together. The sudden surge of blood to his groin made walking difficult. He tightened his pelvic muscles to lessen the telltale throb of his cock. After suffering through at least four cold showers since leaving her last night, he didn't think he could resist the sexual, or psychic, pull between them tonight.
He anchored his grip on her thigh, liking the firm and supple muscles beneath her skin. When he shifted her weight higher to avoid a more active couple stretched out into the aisle, his fingers grazed the smooth cheek of her buttock. The realization that she wore thigh highs and not pantyhose scorched his mind.
He stumbled over his cloak. Her muscles tensed against his body, and her gasped breath fanned his neck. Fire, building on a slow burn in his gut, flared to life. "I have you."
He strode to the back corner of the room, where a lone doorway lay hidden in darker shadows. Trying to be careful of her head, he eased his shoulder into the wood at the same time he turned the knob. Her arms remained around his neck. Stepping through the door, he closed it with one foot. He didn't turn the lights on. He knew his way around in the dark. Walking through the den, he turned down a short hallway to his bedroom.
Once there, he lowered her to the mattress. He shifted his weight to ease the strain on his back, but she still held him. He had calmed her, but her fear remained just beneath the surface. Drayden placed his hands on her arms, gliding his fingers up and down her velvety skin. He could feel the tremors shake her from within.
"It's okay. I won't let anyone hurt you."
How could someone so confident and strong be afraid of what lay in the darkness? He didn't understand why she trembled.
"W-What about you?"
He stiffened as he received his answer. "I would not harm you."
"But, you want to ... taste ... my blood, don't you?"
"Only if you allow me."
He heard her sharp intake of breath. She released him, recoiling in what he assumed could only be fear and disgust. "We're not monsters. We only take what we need to survive."
"Why?"
He sighed and shifted her legs so he could sit beside her, drawing her resisting body close with one arm around her shoulders.
"There is a theory that for those of us who are truly sanguinarian, vampirism is caused by a genetic code passed down from an ancient entity."
"Sanguinarian? You ... crave blood."
"Yes, but not only crave it, we need it. If we don't meet our body's need for the blood, then we experience headaches, nausea, abdominal cramps ... the list goes on. We cannot function in everyday life if our basic needs are not met." He shrugged. "Same as everyone else. Once a person's basic needs are met, then they can go on to explore bigger and better things."
"So, you ... drink blood ... and you feel better."
He laughed. "Something like that, but not that simple." He didn't know how much she already knew, but he needed her to understand and trust him. "Many of us are witches. Vampires have their own rituals and spells where we can use blood to enhance our powers, or enable the spells we cast to make us stronger."
"What kind of powers?"
"In House Meroveus, we train to enhance our psychic powers, learning to feed off the energy of others, so we don't have to have the blood all of the time."
"Feed off ‑‑?"
"Siphon."
She sat up. "You're draining people's life-forces?"
"I ‑‑ We have to have the psychic energy, the chi, or the blood to survive."
She shook her head, stood, then sat back down, clutching her head. "You are training to become an immortal psychic vampire."
"You've been reading too much science fiction."
"No. I've been reading Vampires: The Occult Truth."
"Like I said ‑‑ science fiction. How is your head?" It angered him that she'd believe another over him. Granted, he couldn't tell her the truth. He'd sworn to protect his brother and their community, but ‑‑
"My head is fine! It's your and your friends' heads that are messed up."
"Sit down before you fall. You hit your head harder than I thought." He tried to keep his voice lowered, but she stood over him with her hands on her hips. He'd never met a more infuriating, more passionate woman. Goddess, he wanted her.
"If I remember correctly, you did that to me when you slammed me up against the wall."
"I didn't know who you were." He wrapped his hands around her wrists and pulled her down into his lap. Her hands pushed against his chest to keep her from making contact with him. "But I know who you are now." He fingered a strand of dark hair.
"Why did you change your hair?" He stroked a finger across the velvet covering her breast. He heard the catch in her breathing. "And your clothes?"
"I was trying to blend with the crowd."
Impossible. Jessi Tanner's dominant spirit would stand out anywhere she went, but he tried to humor her. "Did it work?"
"I made a ... friend, and I think I saw the killer. He was staring at me."
He stiffened, but didn't comment. If she'd seen Nolan, it was only because he'd wanted to be seen. That wasn't a good sign. He had to keep her away from his brother.
"Why are you wearing that cape?"
"I was on my way to a full-moon ritual."
"Vampyrecraft?"
He watched her full lips move, and the ache in his gut intensified. He needed to feel her lips on his mouth, his neck, his cock. "Yes."
"What ki‑‑"
He anchored her head with his hand to hold her in place while he moved in to kiss her. Their lips touched, and she pulled to free herself. He tightened his grip on her neck. "Don't fight it. You know you want me."
"You are an arrogant son-of-a-bitch!"
She whispered, but the words grew louder with each syllable. He'd have to shut her up. He intended to show her how the transfer of energy and blood could be a magickal and satisfying experience for the recipient as well as the donor. He knew that with the exchange of blood and chi, their psychic link would strengthen and heighten any orgasm they shared. It would also permit him to sense when she was near, or in danger. He could protect her.
"Why? You begged me to fuck you with my fingers last night. I'm offering more than that tonight, and you are arguing?"
"Why, you ‑‑"
She came at him with her hands outstretched.
That's my girl. He had anticipated her quick temper and caught her wrists, pulled her close, and rolled her beneath him. His legs wrapped around hers to keep her from kicking him with her boots. Her skirt rode up with the twist of their bodies. The action forced his pelvis against the soft mound between her thighs. She bucked her hips, then stilled. Her eyes stared up at him with shock and awareness.
Drayden laughed, knowing she'd realized his cock caused the throbbing against her pussy. He lowered his head and bit her earlobe.
She moaned; he kissed her cheek.
"I promise not to bite too hard ... unless you want me to."
Her entire body shuddered with the impact of his words. Wet heat spread through the thin layer of her thong to trickle down the inside of her thigh. She wanted him to bite her, kiss her, suck her ... hell, fuck her until she screamed.
She became aware of a small tingle like cool fingers sifting through her thoughts.
"If that's what you want ‑‑" His lips nibbled across her jaw to her neck below her ear. "‑‑ tell me."
She bit her lip, closed her eyes, not sure she could voice her hidden needs. The last time she'd trusted a man to give her what she needed sexually, she'd been abused, then labeled a slut. When she had stood up for herself, he'd divorced her for a "more moral woman, who knew her place."
His lips caressed her, soothing in their quest. "Tell me what you need, and I'll give it to you."
Her entire body shuddered, surrendering to the coaxing quality in his voice. Her hands fisted in the folds of the cape. She pushed him away to look into his eyes ‑‑ to see his reaction to her words. "Fuck me."
"I'm dominant, and I like pain, Jessi." His eyes glinted with a feral look she knew instinctively. "You have to trust me."
Her affirmation, no louder than the briefest of whispers, echoed between them like a shout into the Grand Canyon. "Please."
His nostrils flared a second before his mouth claimed hers in a rough and hungry kiss, making their efforts the night before look like a couple of virgins on their first date. He didn't just kiss ‑‑ he devoured. When she tried to turn her head, he held her in place with one hand in her hair, pulling tight enough to snap her neck ... if he wanted.
His other hand circled her throat, controlling the amount of oxygen she received. If she fought too hard, he tightened his grip. When she complied, he let her breathe freely. It was a lesson in submission, and she had no doubt who called the shots. He'd give her exactly what she'd asked for, as long as she gave him what he wanted.
Jessie groaned in surrender, letting the last of her self-control fade to allow Drayden full reign.
His mouth moved from her neck to her breasts. Her nipples stabbed through the velvet shirt like pointed spikes, begging him to suckle them. The material had clung so tight she hadn't bothered with a bra.
He sat up and pulled his cloak from his shoulders, then with a quick jerk of her shirt over her arms and head, she lay bared to him. She shivered in the cool air, knowing her nipples were hard and aroused. She watched his face as he studied each breast. Concentration etched grooves on either side of his mouth and formed furrows across his brow.
Long fingers stretched toward her.
Excitement for the unknown penetrated her arousal. She pressed her back deeper into the mattress.
The deadly fingernails flicked one nipple, then the other.
She jerked as the sensations speared straight to her clit. Her eyes half-closed, she released her grip on his biceps to cup her breasts and push them up, offering them to him.
When she saw him swallow hard, she knew a moment of power. His gaze met hers. The electricity that passed between them surged. He threw his head back as if the power became his, too. She could feel the ebb and flow of energy through some unseen conduit, leaving her body to enter him.
"Do you feel it?" He lowered his head. His dark eyes glittered in the candlelight. "You're feeding me." He leaned down and licked the underside of her breast.
Jessi closed her eyes, feeling the pressure build in her womb.
"I could live off your sexual energy for days." He bit the soft swell of her breast. "That's how aware of you I am."
Jessi groaned, not sure she believed his words, but liking the image he created in her mind. Sex had always been forty percent physical and sixty percent mental for her. If she couldn't visualize the act in her mind, she had a hard time reaching an orgasm.
"Tell me ... what you're going ... to do to me."
"I'm going to suck your soul out through your nipples." He lowered his head, letting his tongue snake out to lick a distended peak. "Can you picture that?"
She closed her eyes with a deep breath. "Yes."
"Then, I'm going to torment you with my tongue until you beg me to fuck you. Are you ready?"
She exhaled slowly through pursed lips, keeping her eyes shut. The scene he'd described formed in her mind, and she arched her back. Her fingernails dug into the muscles of his arms. A moan, dredged up from the depths of her body, exploded into the darkness around them. Before she could give him a verbal response, his lips and teeth latched onto her breast.
Jessi screamed at the sharp pain that streaked from her nipple to her clit. Her head twisted back and forth against the silk sheets beneath her. She drew her knees up and dug her heels into the mattress, but he kept sucking and biting, sucking and biting.
The climax hit in a sudden rush ‑‑ wave after wave of pleasure.
Her hips bucked, but his weight kept her pinned in place.
"S-stop! I-I can't take ... anymore."
His only response was to trade one nipple for the other. With a fierce growl, his lips parted, and she could see her sensitive skin trapped between his teeth.
"I want everything, Jessi."
He tugged hard; she screamed. Thoughts whirled ‑‑ chaotic and dark. He had her body and mind spinning out of control. She could feel his aura fusing with hers.
"Can you give me what I need?"
She gasped for air. "Y-Yes. Yes."
His laugh vibrated through her breast into her abdomen. He licked the underside of her breast once before he resumed his assault. It truly felt as if he'd ripped her soul through her nipple when the second orgasm claimed her.
Her mouth opened to emit a scream, but the spasm of pain and pleasure that crashed through her took her breath. Her body arched, lifting not only her weight, but his, too, into the air.
\*
Nolan crouched behind the slats of the closet door. Sweat traveled like dozens of tributaries down his forehead, merging into a larger river of desire ebbing down his throat and chest to crash into the throb of his cock. His breathing, ragged and painful, caught in a silent groan at the scene playing out in front of him.
The power converging in the bedroom washed over his skin, pricking and tingling like static electricity. He arched his back and head to absorb the chi of Drayden and his lover.
A gasp from the girl drew his gaze. The sight of his brother sucking and biting her tits forced him to fist his hand against the bulge in his pants. The play of flesh across the hardened skin only caused his need to grow. With an impatient swipe, Nolan's fingers pushed inside the material and grasped his cock and stroked hard ‑‑ up, then down ‑‑ in sync with the sucking motion of Drayden's mouth against the bitch's skin.
He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of sex surround him. His hand became her mouth, her cunt ‑‑ his eyes opened ‑‑ her ass. He shuddered and smiled as the imagery took him. He pumped harder between those tight cheeks.
Her scream of pain and pleasure sent him over the edge. Cum, hot and wet, shot hard and fast across the small space to coat the panel of the door and ooze down his hand and wrist.
Instantaneous relief, but not gratification. Reality seeped around him, bringing more frustration and anger. She should be fucking him, not his brother. He should be receiving the full force of her energy, not Drayden.
His fingers brushed the head of his cock. His balls tightened.
His time with her would be here soon enough. Nolan settled back against the line of clothes and closed his eyes. He had all night.
\*
The pressure on her nipple eased, and Drayden released her to lick around and under her breasts. Her skin throbbed and burned. Jessi clenched and unclenched her fingers, realizing she had handfuls of his hair. She eased her grip, but let the silken strands continue to slide through her fingers. Her breath released with a sob. "W-What did you do to me?"
His head lifted to reveal a smile.
Lucifer at his most charming.
He licked her nipple once more; she shuddered. A trace of blood on his tongue disappeared into his mouth. Her eyes widened, and her gaze flew back to his.
His eyes glittered around dilated pupils before he closed them in a look of pure unadulterated pleasure at the taste of her blood in his mouth. When he spoke, his voice sounded slurred. "I sucked your soul out through your nipples."
"Oh, my God." Her throat burned and ached. She'd screamed and panted so hard her voice cracked with the effort to speak. She tried to get up, but Drayden refused to release her.
"We're not finished." He spoke the words quietly, but she heard steel wrap around the velvet of his voice.
"What more do you want?" Her heartbeat accelerated. She should fight, but deep in her mind a voice soothed her anxiety, telling her all was as it should be.
He straddled her hips, pulling her hands above her head with one hand. He smiled again as he reached over to the nightstand with his free hand. A drawer opened with a rattle of the handles. He rummaged for a second, then came back to her with a long silk cord in his hand.
Jessi shook her head. "No." The terror of Molly's death flashed through her mind again. "No, you won't tie me down." Ignoring the persuasive voice, she pushed and twisted to free herself.
Drayden's weight stretched the length of her body, forcing her to lie still beneath him. His fingers massaged her scalp, and his lips caressed her face and jaw. "I won't do anything you don't want me to do."
"You already have."
"What?"
"You drank my blood."
He snorted. "That was a sip, and you can't tell me you didn't enjoy every second of it."
She stiffened, but didn't contradict what he said. She had enjoyed what he'd done to her and knew she'd probably beg him to do it to her again. Her eyes searched his, seeing the sincerity of his words.
Dammit. She hated wanting him like this. Her bottom lip quivered; she bit it. A whimper escaped her throat.
"Shh. Trust me, Jessi. The pain I'll give will be your ultimate pleasure." His eyes widened in the dim light. His voice surrounded her body and mind. She sighed, then nodded.
He smiled and murmured soothing sounds, easing the silk cord around her wrists, drawing her hands together. His soft whispers and lips nipped at her neck. He drew the cord tight, and her arms stretched above her head toward the headboard.
Why didn't she fight? She frowned.
"It's okay." He kissed her eyelids. "I'll take care of you."
She shivered at the promise she heard in his voice. The memory of his teeth on her nipples forced a flood of moisture from her cunt. She heard him laugh.
"So impatient; so ready."
The cord zinged along the edge of the headboard and pulled tighter. She flexed her fingers and was surprised to find she could move her hands easily, but not enough to break her restraints. She opened her eyes to find Drayden studying her. The smile had disappeared.
The hazy glow slowly evaporated. Her gaze narrowed. "How did you do that?"
He didn't ask her what she meant. He shrugged. "Vocal persuasion combined with focal persuasion."
Goddammit! Twice in two nights she'd been hypnotized. So much for her protection spell. "Well, I guess my astral spikes didn't faze you."
He laughed. "Been dabbling in witchcraft, Detective?"
"Apparently not enough." She looked at her bound wrists and tugged.
Drayden moved above her, drawing her attention back to him.
"If your psyche really considered me a threat ‑‑" He straddled her hips. "‑‑ and you performed the ritual correctly ‑‑"
"We did."
He frowned at that. "Then your astral spikes would have activated."
He leaned forward and kissed her. A brief brush of his lips across hers, just enough to make her crave more.
She pursed her lips together. "So, unconsciously, I trust you."
"Exactly." He splayed his fingers in front of her face.
The flash of ten long, blackened nails encompassed her vision. She swallowed against a new dryness that closed over her throat. "What are you planning on doing with those?"
His teeth sparkled behind the fan of his fingers. One by one, he lowered them until she had a clear view of his face.
"You liked them so much last night, I thought I'd let you enjoy them some more tonight."
He sat up, then stroked the nails of his fingers down the slope of her breast while his thumbnail stroked up the underside.
Still sensitive from the oral abuse she'd received, Jessi hissed and arched her back in response to the shivery sensations across her skin. She tightened her abdominal muscles to ease the throb between her legs.
He repeated the torture.
She jerked her hands to stop him, but the silk cord limited her action. She clenched her teeth so tight her jaw hurt. At the third brush of his fingernails, she gasped and a sheen of sweat broke across her upper lip.
"Please. Stop!"
"You don't like this?"
"Hell, yes, I like it." She twisted her hips. "It's driving me crazy."
"How so?" He dragged his nails with excruciating slowness over first one breast, then the other.
"Arghh ..." Jessi screamed and pulled at her restraints. "It ... you have to fuck me." She raised her head between her arms and looked at him. "Now."
"Right this second?" His eyebrow rose.
Her chest heaved; her body burned. She'd kill him. She'd never begged any man to fuck her, and she wouldn't start now. But Drayden Maslow drove her crazy like no other. He ruled at the top of the food chain. Giving orders was second nature to him.
"Yes. Right this second."
She added the last because the look on his face said he didn't like to be told what to do. He was a man who was accustomed to having his commands obeyed. A thread of excitement tingled across her skin to her clit. She refused to concede to his dominance of her. Yet.
Drayden would give her what she wanted, but not in the order she had asked ‑‑ correction: demanded. Jessica Tanner had a stubborn streak he found refreshing and irritating at the same time. Not many people, especially women, questioned his actions or demanded anything from him. She did both.
He narrowed his gaze on her bound hands. A little torture would do her good. "I think you need a lesson in patience, my dear."
Her nostrils flared and her gaze narrowed. The anger and excitement that reverberated from her to him spiked his energy level to an all-time high.
He closed his eyes on a groan, knowing his magickal powers were at a peak. He could exist on the strength of her chi for weeks, but knew that if he didn't turn off the conduit between them, the craving for her blood would take hold of him. With one small taste of her, he risked losing years of training to do without a donor. Years wasted with just one more taste. He clenched his fists against the hunger.
He had to have more ... soon, or the bloodlust would take over. The other danger of indulging in her too much and too often would be leading her into the life of a junkie. She would crave the energy exchanges as much as he craved her blood. The only difference would be she would allow anyone to give her that high, not just him. The flash of jealousy took him by surprise. He frowned.
Deciding not to risk such a delicate hold, he grabbed her waist and flipped her onto her stomach. She would never forgive him if he made her dependent on his kind.
She turned her head to look over her shoulder. "What are you doing?"
Sweat peppered his forehead with the effort he exerted not to taste her. "I'm teaching you a lesson." His fingers gripped her hips to pull her closer to his straining cock. The thin barrier of her skirt and thong panties teased his swelling flesh. He rubbed his dick back and forth along the cleft between her ass cheeks.
Her head came up again. "We're not doing that."
He laughed and pressed in closer. "I bet I could change your mind."
"No." Her eyes flashed a warning at him.
Drayden shrugged. "I'll let you have your way, but one day you will give me that ass ... willingly."
She bit her lip, but didn't argue. He knew then he could do whatever he desired with this woman. She might fight him, but she'd eventually give him what he wanted, because it would be what she wanted, too. With a growl, he flipped her skirt up over her hips and pulled her thong down to her knees.
He might deny himself any further taste of her blood, but he'd be damned if he would pass on the taste of her pussy. First, he needed to teach her who gave the orders.
He brought his hand down hard across her right buttock. Smack!
"Oww! What the hell ‑‑"
Smack!
"Dammit, Drayden."
Her hips bucked between his knees, but he tightened his thigh muscles to prevent her from escaping.
"Now, what was it you were asking me to do?"
She threw him a look of pure hatred over her shoulder. Her nostrils were flared, and her cheeks were as pink as the handprint spreading across the pale skin of her ass. She opened her mouth, and he raised his eyebrow at the same time he raised his hand.
Her bottom lip trembled, then she lowered her gaze.
"Will you ... fuck me?"
His hand came down. Smack!
"What did you ask?"
Tears glistened in her eyes, and she bit her lip.
Drayden had to admire her determination not to cry. He watched her take a deep breath, then swallow her pain. A quick glance down revealed her excitement. Her pussy gleamed in drenched juices of desire. She might fight, but she wanted him.
"Will you fuck me ... please?"
The last word was no more than a whisper, but she'd said what he wanted to hear.
"Good girl." He kissed the red mark on her ass, letting his tongue swirl and soothe over her heated skin. "I'll gladly fuck you, as soon as I've tasted that sweet cunt I've been smelling for the last hour."
She moved to turn onto her back, but he held her in place with his hands on her hips. When she stilled, he eased his hands to the inside of her thighs and pushed her legs further apart. He felt her shiver beneath his touch.
He dropped his legs over the side of the bed and knelt on the floor, putting his face on an even level with her hips. With his thumbs, he spread her firm cheeks apart. A rich, musky scent teased his nostrils and, ultimately, his cock. Like Pavlov's dogs, his mouth watered in anticipation. She wiggled her ass to signal her own urgency.
Drayden leaned forward and swiped her juice-coated cunt with his tongue. The clean, acidic flavor forced a groan from deep within his chest. His mind whirled a second before he drove his tongue deep into her pussy.
Over and over he speared into her moistness while the moans of her desire drove him further along the tide of pleasure. Never had he tasted anyone so sweet, so desirable. He couldn't get enough of her essence. He rubbed his nose and tongue up and down her cleft. At the bud of her ass, he snaked a rigid tongue close and pushed into her.
She tensed for a second, but relaxed when he rubbed his hands up and down her thighs. He bit the soft swell of her ass above her thigh, as a reward.
A gush of nectar eased over his thumb lying closest to her cunt. He flicked his tongue-ring over her clit, then bit her again; she moaned.
"Like that?"
Her head came back. Long tresses slapped her back, and she hissed into the room's darkness. "Yes."
"I bet you like this more."
Drayden rose behind her. He pulled her hips closer to him with one hand, letting his nails bite into her skin. His other hand tangled into the lush mass of her hair. Synchronizing his movements, he pulled her head back hard at the same time he thrust his cock into the hot confines of her body.
The contraction of her vaginal muscles around his dick had the last of his control slipping into oblivion. He pumped harder.
Her cunt sucked him in further.
He pumped faster.
Her moans became screams, echoing around him, forcing him to repeat the motion and strength of his thrusts over and over.
"Goddammit." Just at the point of no return, he realized he hadn't used a condom. Grabbing the base of his cock, he pulled from the depths of paradise. Without halting his thrusts, he worked his dick with his hand ‑‑ hard and painful.
Jessi squirmed in protest.
"Put your legs together."
She complied; he eased his cock between her thigh muscles, leaving his hands free to pinch and tease her clit.
"Okay, baby, squeeze me tight."
"I-I need you in ‑‑"
"I know, but I have to get some protection."
The pressure of her thighs around him eased some of the throb, but not the deep, bone-shattering craving he'd experienced while inside her body. Leaning over to the nightstand, he grabbed a rubber. Pulling free of her thighs, he had the foil ripped off in a matter of seconds and rolled over the head of his dick. He grabbed her hips and, with one thrust, sank the full length into her. He closed his eyes, savoring the utter delight of her tight flesh wrapped around his.
A tingle in his balls told him it's time. He caught her thighs between his, slapped her ass hard, and resumed his thrusts. The tiny moans rising from her told him she was on the verge, the same as he. Catching her under her arms, he lifted her into a sitting position before he eased his feet onto the mattress. He shifted her weight and yanked the panties from around her ankles. The silk cord pulled tighter.
"Let your feet rest on the bed and support your weight."
What in hell was he doing now? Jessi followed his instructions, biting back the smart remark that threatened to erupt from her mouth. Her butt throbbed from where he'd spanked her. Even though he'd made her wetter than she'd ever been, she wasn't about to incur his disfavor again. At least, not so soon. Her feet pushed against the mattress; his arms tightened around her waist.
"Keep your knees bent."
She nodded, then realized he couldn't see her. Before she could answer him verbally, he thrust. "Ohh, my God."
Her hands clenched around the cord. Then, out of desperation, she clutched his arms, liking the play of muscles beneath her fingers. She tightened her thigh muscles in preparation for more of the deep, penetrating lunges.
The crown of his cock burrowed deep into her cunt, rutting and burning all the way with the long, thick shaft close behind. She'd felt him deep before, but with this angle, the penetration could be experienced at an entirely new level of sensation and ... pain.
Her legs shook, then buckled.
Drayden's voice, hoarse and stern, growled in her ear. "Get up."
"I-I can't." She reached out with both arms to support her weight against the mattress. "My legs won't cooperate."
Taloned hands grasped her upper thighs, scraping skin in their haste to pull her toward him. She flinched, but didn't cry out. Her legs slipped over the edge of the bed, forcing her to lie flat on her stomach. Her arms stretched taut.
Drayden came up close behind her, still grasping her thighs, and wedged his hips between her legs. She scooted her hips forward to rise up onto her elbows, but he pushed her back down with the weight of his body on her back.
"Stay." His lips brushed her ear, and she shivered. "And don't move. Understand me?"
She swallowed the tinge of fear at the velvet threat in his voice. She would never admit how much he excited her with his domination. "Yes."
He licked her ear and neck. "Good."
With that, he eased his hands under her hips, lifting her higher, spreading her legs wider, and thrust. All in one fluid motion.
A silent scream lodged in her throat as her mind swirled out of control with flashes of thought whirling in and out.
Her body adjusted to the onslaught of his thrusts. The stirrings of an orgasm lay on the verge of her consciousness as the sounds of sex enveloped her ‑‑ damp skin slapping together, bursts of panted breaths, and deep guttural moans. The auditory stimuli combined with the tactile ‑‑ strong hands holding her, what felt like twelve inches of cock working in and out, fingernails biting to the point of pain.
Jessi felt the tingle in her toes before it snaked up her ankles into her legs. When the tingle reached her abdomen, the spasms took over. Her head jerked back to allow a scream to jettison across the room and hit the adjacent wall. Halfway through, she felt the head of his cock swell. The sensation of fullness increased, as did her pain.
His thrusts had pushed her forward on the bed, allowing slack again in the cord. She wrapped her hands around his upper arms and hung on for the remainder of the ride. He might be causing her pain, but the most exquisite pleasure coursed through her abdomen and vagina.
He shuddered and groaned one last time before collapsing on top of her, crushing her into the soft contours of the mattress.
Time had no meaning. A clock ticked in the distance. The skin of her arms cooled, but her body stayed warm; the heat he generated wrapped around her. She stroked the tips of her fingers over his skin, idly, letting her mind drift into a trancelike state. She blinked twice, then closed her eyes against a wave of exhaustion.
Jessi gasped and opened her eyes. The room still lay in darkness. Her heart raced, pounding against her chest like a hammer. Something wasn't right.
She couldn't breathe. Her mouth opened, and she tried to draw in the stale air surrounding her, but could only gasp with short, shallow breaths. When she tried to sit up, she found herself paralyzed. A strangled croak escaped her throat.
"D-Dray‑‑" His name wouldn't form. The sound, a choked whisper.
Her eyes scanned the darkened room, resting on the deepest grouping of shadows in the corner by the closet. She blinked against the form her gaze told her swirled just above the foot of the bed. A cold, clammy sensation crept over her toes and up her legs.
The form moved closer.
Jessi screamed, but no sound could be heard. The sense of dread she experienced as the entity came to settle above her swamped her senses. A weight pressed upon her chest, forcing the last iota of oxygen from her lungs. The chill that had begun at her feet took hold of her abdomen, moved up into her chest, then settled in her throat.
She could hear herself trying to breathe ‑‑ the sound a harsh stridor. For a second she fantasized she could actually see her breath escaping into the night to be sucked into the entity hovering above her.
Her binding gone, she managed to curl her fingers into the sheets as she stared up into what looked like red eyes. She tried to escape, but couldn't move. She couldn't even blink.
Jessi! The red eyes moved closer.
No! Her mind screamed, but, again, no sound issued from her throat. Flashes of Molly shot through her mind. Limbs naked and bloody, twisted in grotesque posture by her killer as he'd taken his pleasure. I'm going to die.
Not yet, my sweet. I need what you gave Drayden.
The voice reverberated through her mind, tangling with images of her cousin. Jessi knew this thing and the killer were one and the same. He'd found her and somehow knew who she was.
Her body perspired and weakened as her life-force seeped from her to it. She refused to think of the monster above her as a human being. No sane, compassionate human would do to another what this creature had done ‑‑ was doing ‑‑ to Molly and herself.
Where the hell are those astral spikes? Jessi's momentary anger forced her mind beyond the glow of the red eyes. She remembered the calming caress of the ritual bath. She focused on the image of her astral body, expanding around her, glowing with a healthy force all its own. A surge of power like an electrical current trickled over her body.
Snap!
She heard a scream of pain in her mind as her attacker evaporated into the darkness. Her breath returned to her in long, loud gasps. The oxygen burned her starved lungs; she coughed, gagging on the sustenance. With what little energy she could engage, she rolled to the side of the bed. Have to find ... Drayden.
\*
"Where the hell is she?"
Drayden looked down at the hand fisted in the folds of his shirt, then back into the angry dark eyes of Konstantinos. He felt Jarrett move in closer behind him. Drayden held up his hand in a slow movement to signal his lieutenant's retreat.
Jarrett stepped back into the shadows of the club.
"She is fine. Where were you?"
Konstantinos tightened his grip a second before he released the material in his hands with a subtle push. "I got detained."
Drayden snorted. "New girlfriend?"
"None of your business."
Drayden smoothed the front of his clothing. "Why are you so concerned about Jessi? She's not for you."
Konstantinos's gaze narrowed, and his mouth took on a nasty smile. "Nor for you, either, friend."
Drayden's jaw clenched. He picked up the shot glass beside his hand on the bar. "That's a matter of opinion." Bringing the glass to his lips, he swallowed the scalding liquor in one gulp.
"She doesn't belong here."
Drayden shrugged. He refused to acknowledge what the other goth said, whether he'd been thinking the same thing or not. Hell, he knew Jessi didn't belong in the darkness of his world any more than he belonged in the light of hers. They had met by fate. The attraction between them could only be fleeting, at best, then she'd return to her world and he'd stay in his. They'd have fond memories ...
He poured another shot of liquor, hoping the alcohol would numb the part of him that wanted her to stay. He moved to swallow the drink, but paused when he saw the concern in the other man's eyes. "You like her, too."
Konstantinos signaled the bartender, then turned to Drayden. "She's ... a friend."
"You have a lot of female friends."
The Greek smiled. "Yeah, but not like her."
That brought a smile to Drayden's lips. He raised his glass. "To Detective Jessi Tanner from ‑‑"
"‑‑ Podunk, Mississippi." Konstantinos clinked his glass to Drayden's. Both men swallowed their drinks, sucking air through their teeth afterwards at the bite of the liquor.
"Don't let her hear you say that."
Konstantinos snorted. "Too late. She all ready did."
"Ooh. The wrath had to hurt."
Konstantinos shrugged, turned, and rested his elbows on the bar while he stared out across the crowded floor. "She called me a ... 'frickin' goth Yankee,' slammed a door in my face, and refused to bathe with me. All in the same hour."
Drayden threw his head back and laughed. "That sounds like her." He took another shot, then turned to mimic the other man's stance. "She hasn't punched you yet, huh?"
The Greek frowned. "No, why would she?"
"Hmm, don't piss her off. I've seen her in action. She might be small, but she could knock a man on his ass ... quick. You're lucky."
"I'd say you were the lucky one when it comes to Detective Tanner, vampire."
Drayden heard the innuendo, but his only response was a raised eyebrow. He liked the Greek the more they talked, but he wouldn't discuss the sexual relationship between Jessi and himself with the other goth. Some things were private.
"Where is she?"
Konstantinos's voice had grown hard again. Drayden had to admire his determination to protect his ... friend.
"She's ‑‑"
Screams erupted from the end of the room, patrons scattering in all directions. Both men turned to see Jessi, pale and naked, stumbling from the back hall.
"Shit!" They spoke and moved in unison toward her. Drayden reached her first and caught her as she collapsed. Her breaths were ragged, and her eyes rolled back into their sockets.
"Jessi!" He shook her to bring her back. The sight of this vibrant woman, whom he'd held in his arms just a short time ago, in such a state of agony shook him to his core. He eased her to the floor and brought her trembling body close to his chest, rocking her back and forth. "What happened?"
"Killer ... the killer."
Konstantinos raked a hand through his hair and cursed. He knelt beside them and reached for her arm.
Drayden pulled her away from the other's touch. He gave the other goth a glare, baring his teeth, while he felt his nostrils distend with his fear and anger. "Don't fucking touch her."
The Greek's lips thinned in apparent anger, but he didn't attempt to touch her again. "She's in shock. We need to get her someplace warm."
Drayden scooped her up into his arms. He looked at Jarrett. "Find my brother."
With that, he strode from the club through another door leading into his apartment, Konstantinos close on his heels. He didn't argue the other man's presence. He knew the Greek cared for Jessi. His anger needed to be directed toward himself.
He indicated the wall behind him with his head. "Light switch is there."
With a click, fluorescent light flooded the darkened recesses of his apartment. He continued into the bedroom. The sight of the sheets wet with her perspiration and strewn across the bed and floor bore witness to her attack. Drayden closed his eyes against the surge of hatred and guilt that assailed him.
He eased her down to the mattress and grabbed the sheet to pull over her shivering body, but she jerked up, looking around the room. A crazed light flashed in her eyes.
"No, he'll get me here!"
She would have bolted, but Drayden caught her and pulled her onto his lap, holding her as tightly as possible. He recognized the hysteria and confusion. The bastard had tried to drain her life-force. He'd kill him.
He kissed her forehead and smoothed a hand over her arm. "It's okay, now. I've got you." He rocked her and continued speaking to her in calm, soothing tones, willing her with his voice to settle. After about ten minutes, he felt the tension leave her body.
"She's asleep." Konstantinos paced the floor, fists clenched at his side.
"Yeah." Drayden laid her back against the sheets, then pulled the thicker sheets and blanket around her. He kissed her forehead. "Watch her."
"Where are you going?"
"To put an end to something that I should have taken care of months ago."
Konstantinos nodded. "I won't let her out of my sight."
Nolan's demons voiced their needs, shouting at him in the confines of his mind. He placed his hands over his ears, bending over in pain to squelch their demands. Perspiration covered his body from head to toe. He'd been so careful not to let Drayden and his bitch know he watched them, fucking like wild animals in heat, from the bedroom closet.
Drayden had made her scream in desire, but Nolan knew he could make her scream with pain. His head went back and he laughed ‑‑ long and low. He had. Drayden had left, and she'd gone to sleep within feet of where he hid. It didn't take much to conjure his astral form and connect to her energy.
Drayden had fed off her, but instead of weakening her chi, their orgasms had heightened her energy level almost back to normal. She didn't know it, but she'd fed off his brother at the same time Drayden had fed off her ‑‑ reverse osmosis, if you will.
Nolan's breathing burned through his lungs in ragged gasps. The bitch had learned how to use astral spikes. He clutched his forehead. That's why the voices wouldn't leave him alone. They were pissed at missing their supper. His memories blurred, and her face appeared as she'd been in Hattiesburg. She hadn't known about astral spikes in Hattiesburg ...
Voices sounded down the hall behind him. Drayden!
"I don't care what the patrons think. Close the bar and check everyone who leaves. I want him. Now."
The pain wouldn't abate, but Nolan stumbled through the nearest door and discovered the stairs leading to the roof. He hesitated, but Drayden's and Jarrett's voices grew closer. He rested against the wall in the shadows of the stairwell. He'd need all his energy if he had to confront Drayden tonight.
"You cannot turn him over to the authorities, Drayden."
"Don't tell me what to do, Jarrett. He is responsible for that girl's murder, and he could have killed Jessi tonight if she hadn't cast a protection spell earlier. He's certifiable. I've known it for months, but didn't want to admit it. That girl's death is as much my fault as it is his."
"The council won't condone losing him. He is the rightful heir. His lineage ‑‑"
"I know he's supposed to be descended from a fucking alien god, but that doesn't mean it's not just legend."
"That's heresy."
"That's fact. The council cannot prove this legend is legitimate. They're playing to Nolan's psychoses that he's some kind of vampire god. Hell, we had the same parents. If he's a god, so am I. The reality they don't want to admit is that he's suffering from alcoholism. Shit, he drinks absinthe like it's water. Just like our parents."
"Your name will not be known to us any longer if you turn him in."
"I'm not going to stand by and watch this madness continue. He almost killed her."
"Your position in this community is too important. You'd give up ... your family ... for some woman who doesn't know the first thing about our ways? A cowan?"
Nolan held his breath, waiting for his brother's answer. His temple throbbed, and the voices grew louder, urging him to escape, but he waited. When it came, he knew what he had to do.
"Yes."
He waited for the two men to move out of earshot before he climbed the stairs to the roof. He'd have to brave the cold. He couldn't afford the time it would take to collect a coat. Reaching the roof, he stumbled over a patch of ice. To break his fall, he grabbed the edge of the satellite dish.
Images merged with his chaotic thoughts to swirl in his mind. He'd killed her. He knew he had, but she was here! The bitch had corrupted his brother against his own people ... She had to die ... again. And so did ‑‑
The rooftop door flew open, caught by the piercing wind, and slammed into the wall. Nolan turned to the sound of metal crashing into concrete and saw his brother.
"Nolan!" Drayden stepped onto the roof, feeling his feet slide across the icy surface.
"She's got you, bro. You don't have a clue what you have sleeping in your bed."
"What are you talking about?"
"She's a ghost; don't you understand? She's the girl I killed in Mississippi."
Drayden watched Nolan's agitated pacing back and forth around the dangerous perimeter of the roof. His words were broken ... not lucid.
"Didn't recognize her at first with her hair not dyed, but she's the same ‑‑ come back to haunt me. I killed her; now she's back to kill me!"
"Nolan, they're not the same woman. Jessi ‑‑"
"She's a vampire, too. I turned her, and she's going to turn you against us."
Drayden eased toward Nolan, but his brother stepped back several feet to the edge of the roof. Drayden reached out. "Nolan, stop. This all has to stop. You're ill."
"Shut up!" Nolan clutched his head. "All of you just shut up. I know what I have to do."
Nolan looked up; Drayden's hand dropped. The wild haunted look of Nolan's gaze caught him by surprise. He'd seen it several times over the last few months, but he'd ignored the truth. A truth he couldn't deny any longer. His only brother suffered from the same debilitating addiction that had claimed his parents. He hadn't wanted to see what lay in front of him. He had only wanted to hide from the memories of a childhood filled with his parents' hallucinations and violent rages caused by absinthe and the twisted fantasies of the council.
"Let me help you." Drayden stepped closer, lowering his voice to a calm, gentle tone and letting his gaze stare into his brother's crazed eyes.
"No, I know what you're doing." Nolan pointed his finger at him. "You've always been jealous because I'm the one with the better genes." He thumped his chest and raised his head. "I'm better than you, big brother. Admit it. You want the power of the Merovech magicians."
Drayden kept his glance steady, but eased his body into a position where he could tackle Nolan without sending them both over the edge of the roof. They were eight stories up. Neither one of them would survive. He had to keep Nolan calm, and if that meant agreeing with some idiotic legend, so be it.
"You're right. I've always been jealous of you."
"I'm smarter."
"Yes."
"Women adore me."
"Yes." His foot slipped, and he grabbed an exhaust pipe extending from inside the building. He saw Nolan skitter backwards and quickly tried to soothe his brother's paranoid state. "You've always had a way with the girls that I could never match."
Nolan nodded. "I'm the stronger, too."
Drayden closed his eyes against the wave of guilt that assailed him at the pain he heard in his brother's voice. If he had opened his eyes instead of burying his own insecurities with his past ‑‑
"I'm the stronger!" Nolan shouted, then jumped onto the edge of the roof wall.
"Nolan!"
Nolan's feet slipped; he fell.
Drayden rushed forward, grabbing at his brother's hand as it grasped for purchase on the icy precipice. "Stop struggling. Take hold of my hand."
The wild-eyed glaze returned to Nolan's frightened features. His nostrils flared in anger. "You won't defeat me, Drayden. I'll come back. I've been training for this all my life. She did it; so can I."
"Nolan, don't ‑‑"
"I can live forever. I'm immortal."
"Stop!" Drayden tried to maintain his grasp on his brother's hand, but Nolan pulled free. In the mere second of realization that passed between them, Drayden watched Nolan's gaze clear, revealing a mortal's fear of death.
Drayden leaned over the edge, grasping at air, unable to prevent his brother's fall. He watched the last of his living relatives descend into darkness without a sound.
When the body hit with a thud on the ice-covered pavement eight stories below, he sat back hard on the concrete roof and stared at the lifeless form, oblivious to the cutting cold.
A snowflake touched his nose; he looked up into the night sky to see a flurry of white descending upon him and the body below. The goddess had finally decided to let it snow ‑‑ the first of the season. Pure and white to hide all the ugliness in the world.
\*
Jessi stirred to find Konstantinos beside her, staring at her with a worried expression on his face. She blinked against the weariness that ached throughout her body.
"Hi."
"Hi, yourself. How do you feel?"
She frowned and glanced around. "Weak."
He nodded. "That's to be expected. You need to rest and rebuild your strength."
"Where's Drayden?"
"Gone after his brother."
"His ... brother?"
"He's the one who attacked you in astral form."
That's why he refused to help me find the killer. He had purposely hidden the killer's identity from her. Her mouth pulled tight, but she ignored the hurt she experienced at his lack of trust in her and his lack of concern over her cousin's death.
She sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to find him and his brother."
"You are in no condition to do anything."
Jessi wrapped the sheet around her and stood.
The room dipped and swirled around her, but she managed to stay on her feet with a gasp. A strong hand gripped her elbow, but she pulled away to search for her clothes.
"You are the most stubborn woman I've ever met."
She heard the warning in his voice, but ignored it. "Don't tell me what to do, Konstantinos. I'm a cop." She snatched the thong panties from the bedpost and turned toward the goth.
She waved the black fabric at him. "I've got a damned job to do."
"Why? Why do you have to be the one to catch the killer? There are other detectives on this case, just as capable and right now in better condition."
"Because she was my fucking cousin, that's why!"
Jessi sat down hard on the side of the bed, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. God, she hated to cry. She swallowed hard and blinked back the moisture gathering behind her eyelids. She bit her lip to stop the telltale tremble, which always indicated the extent of her loss of control.
She flung the sheet away and pulled the underwear over her legs, not caring if the man beside her finally saw her naked. Then she grabbed her shirt.
"It's my fault she got messed up with this vampire shit in the first place. If I'd paid more attention to her instead of trying to be the best female cop in Hattiesburg history, she'd be hanging out at the local burger joint with the high school quarterback instead of hanging around creeps like Drayden Maslow and his brother."
"You don't mean that about Drayden. You're upset."
"You're damned right I'm upset. I'm pissed as hell that I've been wasting an entire week on this case, fucking a man who knew all along who the killer was, when I should have concentrated on my job and arrested the bastard by now."
"You had no control over what your cousin did. That was her decision, not yours. You weren't her mother."
Jessi stopped in the process of pulling on her boots. She couldn't stop the tears of anger that rolled in big, fat drops down her cheeks. "No ... I was the closest thing to a sister she had, and I let her down."
Konstantinos moved beside her on the bed, his heavier weight pushing the mattress down. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
Jessi let herself give in to the comfort of his touch for a second, but remembered what she had to do. She pushed away and stood. Looking around, she spied her purse, which held the gun she'd been afraid to use earlier. She pulled the weapon free.
"Call the police and ask for Detective Joe Selenka, or Kyle Bishop. Tell them I need backup ... here ... ASAP, okay?"
"Okay." His acquiescence sounded resigned, defeated.
She reached out and touched his cheek with a lone finger, tracing the cleft in his chin. "I should've fallen for you."
A black eyebrow rose, and his expression looked disgusted. "Are you saying I'm safe and boring?"
She laughed in spite of the situation. "You'll never be boring, but I do feel safe with you."
He snorted, then pulled her close.
She knew what he intended, but didn't stop him. Their curiosity about each other had boiled beneath the surface long enough. His lips were warm and firm, searching and coaxing at the same time. He tasted of some type of liqueur she couldn't place. His scent surrounded her, spicy and clean. She returned the kiss with eagerness, but although she enjoyed it, the fire she felt with Drayden couldn't be duplicated.
Konstantinos pulled back and stared into her face with narrowed eyes.
"Still just friends, huh?"
"'Fraid so." She couldn't admit the depth of her emotions for Drayden, but she could acknowledge the trust and friendship she felt for this man.
"Be careful." Konstantinos kissed her cheek, then released her.
Jessi strode out of the apartment, searching for any clue that would lead her to Drayden. Although the narrow hallway lay deserted, the door at the end creaked.
Jessi's steps slowed, and she gripped the gun tighter. She wouldn't be blindsided this time. She glanced around before she eased to the hinged side of the door. Freezing gusts of air caused the door's motion. She wrapped her hand around the knob.
Taking a deep breath, she shoved the door wide and peered into the dark recesses of a stairwell. The air closed around her, forcing the edges of her peripheral vision to waver. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. You can do this, Tanner.
The sound of Drayden screaming "Nolan!" brought her out of her moment of hesitation and into action. She took the steps two at a time. When she reached the top, she found the roof door opened wide.
Across the distance, she saw Drayden sitting and staring over the edge of the short wall around the perimeter of the roof. Jessi glanced around, but didn't see any threat. Slowly, she stepped onto the rooftop, which had turned into a veritable skating rink.
Her feet slipped and slid, but she inched across the concrete to Drayden's side. Snowflakes coated his hair and eyebrows. Like her, he wasn't wearing a coat.
"Drayden?"
He didn't respond, but sat staring into the night with an empty look on his face. She reached out to touch his shoulder, holding the gun at an angle with one hand. His shirt lay damp and plastered to his body. She could feel the cold of his skin through the material. If he stayed out here much longer, he'd suffer from hypothermia.
"Drayden, where's Nolan?"
Dark eyes turned toward her, like he registered her presence for the first time. His gaze narrowed on her face, then on her weapon. Anger flooded his features. "Dead."
Jessi released her grip on his shoulder and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat at the look of hatred he'd given her. She eased closer to the edge, keeping an eye on Drayden and a firm grip on the gun. His expression indicated he'd like to kill someone. She couldn't be sure he didn't have her in mind.
A quick glance down at the crushed and crumbled body verified Drayden's statement. Blood pooled around the head. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and turned her focus to the man beside her.
"You need to come inside with me. You're going to freeze out here."
"What do you care? You've gotten what you came here for."
She flinched at the angry, hurtful words he hurled at her. She recognized the pain he felt at losing his brother. She had experienced the same anger and hatred when she'd viewed her cousin's butchered body. But, as much as she wanted to, she couldn't share that with him. No one here knew of her connection with Molly Jones, except Konstantinos.
At that moment, Joe and Kyle arrived with weapons drawn and ready. They moved forward, slowly, surveying the scene.
"Drop your weapon, Jessi."
Jessi blinked, then looked at the gun in her hand. Her fingers, numb and reddened from the cold, opened slowly. The weapon clattered to the cement below, sliding from the impact with the ice.
Joe moved over to her and Drayden, with Kyle close behind. He peered into her face. "You okay?"
Jessi nodded, the weariness and weakness of earlier catching up with her.
"Did he hurt you?"
She shook her head. Somewhere in her mind she registered Kyle pulling Drayden to his feet and clamping cuffs on his wrists before reading him his rights. She frowned, not sure what was wrong with the picture in front of her.
She blinked, as if in slow motion. Joe's voice sounded like he spoke to her from a tape played backwards.
"Booooj doooog." His hand descended with a hearty thump across her shoulders, scattering shards of pain into her head. Blackness crept around her peripheral vision, but she couldn't stop the vacuum that sucked her into a deep, dark void.
\*
Jessi wiped a muddy hand on her jeans as she worked the spring flowerbed at her Aunt Mae's house. Birds twittered in the trees, and the sun bathed warmth and life over the newly turned earth. The sound of crunching gravel caught her attention. She turned to watch a cab with tinted windows pull up in the narrow, circular drive.
The passenger door opened. Black combat boots touched the ground, then a long-legged vampire stepped out. He held up a black-tipped hand to shield his eyes from the bright midday sun. "There's a lot of fucking sunshine down here in the south."
The deep voice, soft and sensuous, tingled over Jessi's skin. She stood, not believing what her eyes beheld. She hadn't seen or heard from Drayden for three months.
Konstantinos had come to talk to her before she'd left New York. He had tried to get her to come down to Club Arcadia with him and speak with Drayden, but she had refused. Each of their lies had injured the other. She hadn't been willing to forgive Drayden for hiding the killer's identity from her at the same time he'd made love to her. She had committed the same offense, hiding her true relationship with Molly from him. They had both hurt the other, and their stubborn pride prevented either from admitting their guilt.
Now, out of the blue, Drayden stood in front of her. Her lip trembled. She swallowed the emotions that threatened to take over. She squared her shoulders, pushing her sunglasses further up her nose. She'd be damned if she would cry in front of him and show any weakness. Whatever his reason in coming here, Drayden would know he had the upper hand.
She swallowed hard and refused to walk over to him when what she wanted to do was run and throw herself into his arms.
"Yeah." The single word sounded shaky. She drew a deep breath. Her fears eased. He'd come this far; he could walk a few extra feet. She watched a wary expression cross his face.
Oh, hell. Maybe she could make those few feet a little easier to bear since he'd come all this way. Drayden Maslow was nothing if not a proud man. She didn't want him to change. Her rigid stance weakened.
"If you stick around, we have a lot of stars and moonlight, too."
"Hmm, well, that can definitely be arranged."
Jessi narrowed her gaze. "What do you mean?"
In three long strides, he had her in his arms. He pulled her head back with a growl. The kiss he gave held no sign of gentleness. His lips and tongue sucked, bit, and caressed for several glorious minutes. Then he allowed them to come up for air.
"Goddammit, woman, don't leave me like that again." His angry voice broke, revealing a deep level of emotion swirling within that didn't have to do with anger, but what sounded like fear.
Her own anger and fear surfaced. "You could have called." The words were out before she could stop them.
His body stiffened, and his arms loosened their grip. A look of total dejection flashed across his face before a wall of stone erected itself. He turned and took three steps back to the vehicle.
"Wait."
He stopped, but didn't look toward her. "Why?"
She walked up behind him and reached to touch his shoulder, but drew her hand back, frightened of his possible rejection and of the dark desires he aroused in her for him. She'd gone down the road of love before, but never quite this hard. She didn't know for sure if "love" described what she felt for Drayden. She craved him. His need had become her need. "I missed you."
"Enough to go out with me?"
"Like, date?" Jessi couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice.
"Well ... yeah."
She frowned and angled her head to catch the elusive impulse that flashed across her mind, then disappeared. "Did you leave the vamp community?"
"No." He shifted his feet, looking uncomfortable. "I've been reprimanded and have to perform community service in New Orleans for a while."
"You didn't do anything wrong." Jessi experienced a surge of anger for the unknown council. Nolan had been at fault, not Drayden.
"They feel I should have addressed Nolan's problem instead of ignoring it. I agree with them." He stepped closer and skimmed a finger across her cheek. "But thank you for being indignant for me."
The back door opened, and a little old lady dressed in a blue-and-white gingham day dress overlaid with an apron bustled onto the porch. She shaded her horn-rimmed glasses with her hand. Her white hair shone pristine as virgin snow in the bright sunshine.
"Jessica, who's that hippie out there with you? Do I need to call the sheriff?"
Drayden's gaze caught hers; his eyebrow lifted.
Jessi bit her lip, knowing he waited to see if she would deny any association with him the way she'd refused to touch him the first night they had met.
"No, Aunt Mae. This is ... Drayden ... the man I'm dating." She gripped Drayden's hand, curling her fingers through his and kissing the black nails that brushed her skin. She stifled a groan at the memory of what those nails could do to her. She glanced up into his gaze and whispered, "This is the man I'm falling in love with."
Drayden closed his eyes for a second, then pulled her into his arms, holding her so tight she thought her spine would snap. Behind her, Aunt Mae clutched her heart and let out a squeal of utter horror.
"Sweet Jesus, I knew it. You're going to end up in Hell, girl. Mark my words!"
She felt Drayden's chest expand, and tightened her embrace. "It's okay. I hear it all the time."
He stepped away. "No, it is not okay." He kissed her forehead. "You're loyal and honest. You live your life the way others only wished they could." He headed for her aunt.
Jessi knew a moment of panic. Not for her aunt, but for her lover. Aunt Mae was a God-fearing woman. With that brought a deep fear of Satan and anyone or anything deemed different. With Drayden's dark looks and black fingernails, her elderly aunt would most likely attack him with her Bible and her cross, then ask questions later. Jessi turned to rescue him, but stopped at the sight of the two facing each other.
Drayden's hand extended to Aunt Mae. "Hello. I'm Drayden. It's nice to meet you."
The old woman refused his hand. She clutched the cross around her neck. "Are you in league with the devil, boy?"
"No ... ma'am."
Aunt Mae's eyes narrowed and her chin lifted. "Are you a Catholic, then?"
Jessi saw Drayden lower his head a second and bite his lip to keep from laughing. She had to admit she found the effort hard herself, especially hearing him say "ma'am" like he'd been raised here. God, she wouldn't blame him if he ran screaming down the driveway at the suspicious, unwelcoming attitude of her relative.
"Uh, no, Aunt Mae. I'm a ... sanguinarian."
Jessi's mouth dropped open. She hadn't expected him to say that! Her heart stopped, waiting for her aunt's response, not sure if the old woman knew what the term meant.
Aunt Mae's face held a blank expression. She sniffed, then smiled. "Well, as long as you don't have fangs and suck people's necks, I guess you're just fine."
Drayden looked over at Jessi and shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, I tried.
The older woman waved them into the house. "Come on in out of the sun, boy, and get some iced tea. You'll be burnt to a crisp in a few minutes."
Aunt Mae disappeared and Jessie heard, "... pale as a corpse."
She breathed and rolled her gaze to the sky. She hurried forward and grabbed Drayden's arm. "Thank you, but you didn't have ‑‑"
"Yes, I did. She's your family, so she's also mine."
"But we're not ‑‑"
"What?" The look he gave her challenged her to say the rest.
Jessi raised her chin. "We're not married, so technically she's not your family."
He turned his back to Aunt Mae and took Jessi's other arm in his grasp, gentle but firm. His dark eyes burned into hers. "No, we're not ever getting married in any church, or signing any paper at the city hall. I don't need any of that to tell me we should be together."
He pulled her close, and his mouth crushed hers, leaving her in no doubt she belonged to him. His tongue snaked between her lips and entangled with hers. His teeth bit and his lips suckled until she trembled and moaned in his arms. Only then did he release her. "What if we date, and you decide you'd like to come back to New York with me?"
"Well, Kyle did say he'd rather have me as a partner than Joe." The words fell in a low hush between them. She looked at the gravel of the driveway. He'd come all this way for her. She would give him anything he asked for. Her head lifted, and she found him facing her ‑‑ staring at her intently, without a thread of softness on his face. He looked so serious.
"If you came to New York with me, then we'd have to perform a blood bond."
"What's that?" Her voice didn't sound like her own. The husky, dreamy quality belonged to a softer woman than Jessi had ever been.
"Vampyrecraft to bind you to me through the sharing of our blood." He leaned down and nipped her earlobe with his teeth. His long nails eased under her ponytail to caress the nape of her neck. "Tell me now if you don't want me, Jessi, because I can't, or won't, reverse the bond once we've cast it in place."
Jessi fisted her hands into his shirt, pulling him close. Their foreheads touched. She stood at a crossroads once more in her life, but this time with a man her society rejected. She knew if they were going to make it together, she'd have to learn to live in his. "A vampire wedding, huh?"
"Yes, without the guests." His hand tightened in her hair to draw her head back. "This bond would be between you and me. This is stronger than some ridiculous ceremony where you say that you'll obey me forever."
She batted her eyelashes at him and gave her best fake Southern belle accent. "Why, you don't want little ol' me to obey your every command?"
He snorted and rolled his gaze to the roof. "Yeah, like that will ever happen."
Jessi's mouth opened. She placed her hands on her hips. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"That you are the most independent, stubborn woman I've ever met." He stepped closer and slid an arm through hers, pulling her flush with his body. "You don't obey anyone, but I'm going to love trying to teach you."
The press of his hardened cock against her abdomen sent chills down her spine. His mouth took on a smirk at one side, indicating he knew exactly how she would react to his aroused state. In an instant, the smile disappeared and the serious expression returned.
"Will you see me while I'm in New Orleans?"
She nodded with a shiver; he released her. Her happiness soared for a second, then crashed and burned just as fast. "You do ... care about me?"
"I've asked you to date me." His jaw clenched tight.
Anger replaced uncertainty. "Well, all that silent dominance stuff might work on those goth-vamp girls, but you're gonna have to loosen up and do some talking to get a Southern belle. We like romantic nothings whispered in our ears."
He hung his head for a few seconds, then scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair. He looked into her eyes. His gaze softened. A look unlike she'd ever seen since knowing him. "Yes, I think I care about you."
"Think?" She pulled away, feeling the prick of tears behind her eyelids. One second he suggested living together, practically married, then he says, I think! It wasn't enough. She couldn't give herself, her body, to any man in the way she knew Drayden would insist she give if he didn't care for her.
"Jessi ..." He touched her arm. "I've never let a relationship get this far." He raked a hand through long black hair. "Every time I got close to a woman, I would remember my parents' miserable lives, always fighting, always drinking."
Jessi heard the pain in his voice, saw the fear on his face. Her strong, bold vampire warrior had a weakness ‑‑ love. Regret replaced her anger. "It's okay. We'll just take one day at a time."
Surprise replaced the fear on Drayden's face. He stroked a finger down her cheek. "I do know I need you more than I've ever needed anyone else."
Soft, simply spoken words, but that's all it took. She slid her hand into his, willingly, leading him to her aunt's house. She stepped through the doorway, but he stopped. Jessi frowned up at him. "What's wrong?"
His gaze glittered with malicious humor. "I'm a vampire. You have to invite me in."
She punched him in the arm. "Drayden Maslow, get your ass in this house."
"Ow, woman." He shied away when she pulled her fist back again. "I'm going to have to tie you up and spank you later."
With a laugh, he ducked down and slung her over his shoulder, tripping across the threshold and into the cool recesses of the old house, with Jessi screaming in laughter all the way.
Jessi lit the last candle. The walls danced in the eerie light cast by the red and black candles situated around the room. Her skin tingled with excitement and anticipation of what she intended to do tonight ‑‑ the Long Night.
Tonight many houses and covens gathered to celebrate the longest night of the year and recognize the newest members of their community. After tonight, she would be recognized, maybe not as vampire, but close enough.
"Ready?"
Jessi smiled and turned to Drayden's voice filled with warmth and excitement.
"Yeah. You?"
He moved toward her, his body lithe and graceful beneath the fall of his robe.
The sight made her breath catch. How she'd managed to capture this man's attentions, she would never understand.
His arms wrapped around her waist, and he buried his face against the side of her neck. "Umm, you smell good."
Jessi smiled and curled her neck inward at the tickle of his tongue over her skin. She would have pulled him closer, but he stepped away, studying her with hooded eyes. Shadows played across his face, hiding his thoughts from her.
He nodded. "Yes, I'm ready."
His fingers slid the length of her arm, sending a trail of awareness in their wake. He offered her his hand. Without hesitation, she interlaced her fingers with his.
He led her in a circle three times around a small table. The contents of the surface lay covered with a black silk cloth, which matched the cloth draped beneath. With each revolution, he stopped in front of the table and bowed his head, waiting for her to follow suit.
The whisper of their robes against their thighs pierced the silence of the room. She shivered. Tiny quivers erupted from her abdomen into her limbs.
Drayden's grip tightened around hers in reassurance.
With the third circle completed, Drayden stopped them in front of the table again. When he bowed, Jessi anticipated his move without prompting and bowed, too. He stepped forward, bringing her to his side. With a steady hand he lifted the silken cloth, then struck a match and lit two black candles. The flare enabled Jessi to see the contents of the table. She stifled a gasp.
This wasn't just a table. It was an altar.
Lying within reach were the candles, a silver bell, a silver cup with a sparkling liquid inside, a pentacle pendant, a small wreath of flowers, two small cakes, and an ... athame.
Jessi swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. Her heart raced, not sure she could go through with the ceremony Drayden demanded they enact since she had decided to move to New York and be with him.
"The circle has been formed. We seal our protection within with the elements of earth, air, fire, water, and spirit."
Jessi jumped at the sound of Drayden's voice. Although spoken softly, almost reverently, his deep voice carried around the room. He lifted the bell and rang the instrument three times. The silvery tingle raced along her spine and across her skin. Her nipples hardened beneath the robe.
"We ask the god and goddess to protect us and bless us in our endeavors and accept our offering this night."
Jessi had the urge to say "amen," but didn't.
Drayden turned to her. Without a word, he pulled the sash of her robe and pushed the material away from her shoulders. The silky folds glided to the floor. The night air brushed cool against her bared skin. He reached past her, his arm brushing her nipples, and retrieved the wreath of flowers. He placed it upon her head, feathering his fingers across her cheek.
Drayden removed his own robe.
Jessi's gaze followed the descent of the silk to the floor, then back up slowly over the muscled contours of his body. The folds between her legs moistened.
Drayden grasped her hand with his left hand and reached for the athame with his right. His fingers tightened when Jessi's muscles tensed. Their gazes met.
She searched his eyes, looking for reassurance.
He smiled; she relaxed.
She hissed as the blade of the athame sliced into the skin of her forearm. She stared in horror at the sight of her blood oozing along the outline of his fingers. She didn't fight when he moved her arm over the cup of clear liquid.
Drop. Drop. Drop. Her blood mingled with the fluid.
Drayden released her arm, pressing her other hand over the wound, and repeated his actions to his own body. Jessi watched as he dribbled his blood into the cup with hers. Picking the chalice up, he swirled the contents together, then set it upon the table. He lifted his hands to an invisible force.
Jessi glanced around, not moving her head. Scattered flickers of light danced around the room, but no entity could be detected.
"We come separately to this altar, but ask to leave as one." His fingers dipped into the mixture, then coated the red candle with their combined blood. He faced her; she looked up.
The smile had vanished to be replaced by the most serious expression she'd ever seen on his face. Her heart stopped as she stared into his face, hoping her trepidation about the blood rite didn't show on her face. She'd been dating him six months, but he had never included her in one of his rituals.
"Jessica Tanner, I anoint you with my blood and claim you as my soul-mate."
He traced a pentacle on her chest above her heart.
Jessi stood still as a statue, not sure she could breathe. When he had completed his task, he looked down at her, waiting. She darted her gaze back and forth, wondering what he expected her to do. Seconds passed, but he didn't move or speak.
Love me. The words brushed the outer remnant of her mind. She blinked, understanding coming like a person waking from a deep sleep. Releasing the cut on her arm, she coated her fingers with her blood. She bit her lip and reached out for Drayden. With trembling fingers, she traced a pentacle above his heart. His chest moved, warm and vibrant, beneath her hand, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart. "Drayden Maslow, I anoint you with my blood and claim you as my ... soul-mate."
Her lips quivered, but she got the words out. Tears threatened behind her eyes. She blinked, then glanced up at the man in front of her. His smile curved gentle across his usually stern mouth. In that moment Jessi could see the poet he kept hidden within his hard exterior.
He lifted the cup. "We are one." He drank and handed the cup to Jessi.
She nodded, drank, and said, "Amen."
Drayden chuckled. He placed the cup on the altar and lit the red candle, then leaned forward and placed his lips to hers.
The kiss tasted of wine and blood ‑‑ hers and his ‑‑ blended together like their lives. Jessi trembled at the symbolism. When he lifted his head, she circled his neck with both arms and held him close. She didn't want to frighten him, but he needed to know how she felt. Her gaze met his. "I love you."
A deep growl issued from his chest, and he pulled her against him. His lips crushed hers while his tongue forced her mouth open to mate with her tongue. He circled her thighs with each hand, lifting her legs around his waist. Bending at the knees, he laid her upon the floor on top of the robes, but within the confines of the circle. His large body covered hers, with his cock, long and hard, pushing against the entrance of her cunt. He lifted his head. Jessi protested.
"Where are you going?"
She opened her eyes when he didn't answer. She saw the look of love and vulnerability in his eyes. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. Everything is great."
"You want to finish this in our new bed?" She wagged her eyebrows up and down.
He grinned and shook his head. "The ceremony isn't over."
She frowned. "What's left to do?"
He nipped her bottom lip, then sucked the stinging flesh into his mouth. "An offering to the god and goddess." He released her lip to trail kisses over her jaw and down her throat. His teeth latched onto her nipple. "After which, you and I will eat the ceremonial cakes, as is tradition."
Jessi arched and dug her fingernails into his upper arms. "What kind of offering?"
It was Drayden's turn to close his eyes and hiss. "I love when you hurt me."
Jessi laughed. "You didn't answer the question. What kind of offering?"
"Sex."
Jessi hesitated and glanced around. "You mean ... sex?"
"Oh, yeah." A wicked light entered his eyes. "They like the magick created at the point of orgasm, or in this case, multiple orgasms."
"I thought that's how I met your need for psychic energy."
Drayden stilled and looked down at her. "You give me everything I need, and I thank all that's above and below for you."
He thrust forward, filling her body with his.
Jessi gasped and closed her eyes at the sensation of his cock rocking her pelvis up and back, bringing her close to climax.
"I love you, Jessi."
Her eyes flew open to find his face within centimeters of hers. She smiled and traced his jawline. The words she thought would never be hers had arrived. All her needs had been answered, too. She rocked her hips up to meet his thrust. "Let's make this the best orgasm They've ever experienced."
Drayden laughed. "Amen."
When Sheri Gilmore isn't creating romantic sexual fantasies for her readers, she's a registered nurse, wife, and a mother of three. Her most favorite cities are New Orleans, San Francisco, and New York City, but she's always wanted to visit San Antonio, Santa Fe, and Las Vegas. Visit Sheri on the Web at www.sherisecrets.com.
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by Alicia Sparks
Available Now from Loose Id
Caire wanted to run her hands along the man's broad chest, to explore the tiny thatch of hair just below his navel, to take his tight nipples between her teeth and watch his deep blue eyes smolder with gold as she had seen so many times in her dreams. But she waited with bated breath, hoping she could subdue him enough, hoping her incense and smoke trick would entice him so that he would willingly come to her. Anything to have her hands in his hair, his body pumping into hers.
Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the women bathe him. Their tiny breasts floated on the water, just out of reach of his mouth as he sat in the tub, submerged to the waist in the warm, clear water. She would have gone to him herself if she had not meant to test his reaction to the women. In the seconds when they had met, he claimed to be a man who could not be owned by women. Her heart pounded against her chest as she sat in the shadows, anticipation flowing all through her body.
Medina, one of the young girls with long, dark hair, ran her hands along his chest, leaving a trail of lather in their wake. He tilted his head back as a lazy smile crossed his face. The man might proclaim to be immune to women, but he certainly seemed to be enjoying his treatment at their skilled hands. Corine stood behind him, lathering his thick hair, twisting the dark mass in her small, white hands.
Caire inhaled a deep breath, wishing she were the one standing behind him, his head on her chest as she wove her fingers through his hair. One command was all it would take to empty the pool of the others. Then she could take her time exploring the warrior's body, taking in his ample chest, the thick mass of hair that covered it, sliding her fingers down lower to wrap around his cock.
Watching the others surround him both aroused her and angered her. She should be the one attending him. The desire to stand, announce her presence, take control of the situation, was strong, but before she could move, he reached out and took Medina's breast into his hand and gently coaxed her forward.
Caire's wetness came as no surprise. She had watched others have sex before and had been more than intrigued by their actions. But tonight, watching the man she longed to have, a new surge of yearning swept through her, one that was so much stronger than anything else she'd ever felt.
He let out a low moan, deep enough for her to hear as the sound echoed through the stillness in the room. Corine had ducked beneath the water and no doubt had his cock in her mouth. Caire licked her lips, imagining how it would feel to have them stretched over his thick rod, his hands buried in her hair as she licked and sucked, moving on top of him.
She reclined on the chaise, still hidden in the shadows, her eyes intent upon watching the women as they pleasured Ah-ten. Spreading her legs, she imagined him raising himself above her, placing his cock in her mouth. Her hand wandered down her stomach to graze against her soft patch of hair. She let it linger there for a second, imagining how his tongue would feel if it were to sweep against her while she stroked him. Then her fingers moved lower, closing over her clit, which was already swollen with anticipation.
Corine came up for air as Medina slipped from Ah-ten's arms and slid into the water. Corine sat astride him, her breasts pressing into his face as his fingers dug into her back. Caire couldn't see, but knew that he had Corine's breasts in his mouth, lavishing attention on one and then the other. From the sounds of the moans floating out to her, Caire imagined his skilled tongue moving swiftly, followed by his teeth, which would sink into her flesh, gently biting, bringing her to ecstasy.
Finally, her fingers slipped into her wet warmth. One hand moved to cover her breast, to squeeze her nipple as she imagined what Ah-ten was doing. The other worked furiously at her wet pussy, attempting to bring herself to orgasm as she watched Ah-ten take turns with the maid's breasts. She longed for him to lift them out of the water and glide them over his cock, which she somehow knew would be thick and large with deep purple veins that begged to be squeezed to release.
Her fingers weren't enough. Not when the man who was the object of her obsession possessed something so much larger than her fingers.
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What people are saying about
Desert Moon: Ah-ten
Alicia Sparks has woven a great erotic romance with Desert Moon: Ah-ten. My temperature rose after reading the first few chapters. The many sexual encounters throughout this novel were very intense, frequent, hot and passionate in nature.
Ms. Sparks is a talented author with a very creative imagination. This is the first book I
have read by her, but it will not be the last. I recommend this book to anyone who enjoys
stories of fantasy and the paranormal.
Ah-ten is a hero to beat all heroes and Caire is a ruler of intelligence in a fascinating story. Everything combines to create an excellent novel that I recommend to all lovers of romantic fantasy.

