“Now what?” Ramsey asked. All Nicolas had told him was to get inside, then he would take over. Ramsey eyed the tall man before him who was dressed completely from head to toe in funerary black.
“We shall scout the area and find a weakness that I can use,” Nicolas said, his voice sounding like a deep, wicked melody. “A weakness that will affect them all. Then, we shall gather all the Ravens together. I will decide what to do with them after we have secured ourselves.”
A slow smile spread over his devilish mouth.
“After,” he said, “I find the one I’ve been looking for. The one you say is called Heather.”
Chapter Seven
Heather sat on the edge of Colin’s bed, one leg crossed over the other, her hands palm down with her arms bracing her up as she leaned back. She listened to the sound of the shower coming from the adjoining bathroom and smiled. She felt good. She felt totally wicked.
And she hoped Colin was pleasantly surprised when he came out of the bathroom and saw her sitting there.
She was early but it couldn’t have worked out better. Heather had donned an ankle length flowing skirt and a roomy black blouse over her leather lingerie before she had left her own wing. When she had arrived just minutes ago, Kaitlyn had been kind enough to let her into their wing, telling her that Colin was somewhere in his own private area of the wing. Heather had thanked her and then went to find the man of her dreams.
The shower stopped.
Heather’s heart began to pound like a drum. She glanced at herself in the wide mirror that hung above Colin’s dresser. She liked her look—wild and wanton—but it needed a bit more. She licked her lips, wetting them. Then she remembered another little surprise that she had brought. The leather of her outfit creaking slightly with her movements, she quickly snatched her skirt from the top of the dresser and dug into one of the deep pockets. She pulled a small jar from the pocket and unscrewed the lid. Dipping her fingers into the thick cream, she applied it to both of her nipples. They immediately peaked, jutting nicely through the cutouts of the leather bra. Heather drew in a breath, already enjoying the sensation of the cream. She loved it, calling it her little pot of yum. Not only did the cream enhance the feeling wherever you applied it with a lovely tingling sensation, it also tasted like chocolate covered cherries. She hoped Colin liked the flavor. He was going to be tasting a lot of it if he cooperated.
A new sound came from the bathroom.
Heather bit back a giggle when she realized he was humming. Still, she had to hurry. She wanted to be in the most seductive position when he walked into the room. Having forgone panties and wearing only the garter belt and fishnet stockings helped. She dipped into the cream again and reached down to spread the petals of her cleft. She felt a shuddering ripple pass through her lower belly as she smoothed the cream over her already heated flesh. A hot tingling began almost immediately. Heather ran her tongue over her lips, her fingers delving into her cleft. She was on fire with need and she needed Colin. Her fingers passed over her sensitized bud and she almost came.
“Enough,” she whispered, placing the cream on the dresser.
Her body literally vibrating in anticipation, Heather scooted the wide wingback chair that sat in the corner into the middle of the floor and positioned it so it faced the bathroom door.
She sat down in it, slinging one leg over an arm of the chair and draping one arm over the back, catching the wooden trim in her hand. The position thrust her breasts up, her peaked nipples begging for attention as they poked through the cutouts of the bra. Also, with one leg over the arm of the chair, her dewy pussy was spread for him, waiting for a caress of his hot tongue.
Heather dropped her free hand in between her legs and using one finger, drew slow lazy circles around her clit, massaging the tingling cream into her silky flesh. Her blood raced, her breathing becoming strained.
Colin opened the bathroom door and took one step into the room.
His eyes met hers and he froze.
Heather felt the burn of his gaze as it traveled over her body and held, resting on her wet pussy.
“Colin,” she said in the sternest voice she could muster.
His eyes snapped to hers.
She struggled not to smile as she noticed the way the front of the towel wrapped around his waist was now tented by his erection.
“Colin—come here,” she said.
He started toward her, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “What is this? A surprise?”
Heather narrowed her eyes and while still circling her fingers over her precious bud, tried her best to resemble a dominatrix. “Don’t speak unless I give you permission. Now—get over here!”
Colin’s eyes widened for a second then he seemed to catch on. He stopped just in front of her, his hands clasped in front of his obvious hard-on. His stance was one of obedience but there was a light in his eyes.
Heather loved it. “Drop the towel.”
He did as he was told. His penis was huge, fully erect. It jerked under her gaze.
Heather smiled. He was going to have to wait a little while longer. “On your knees, Colin.”
He lowered himself in front of her spread legs. Nostrils flaring, his eyes went to the wet heat she offered him.
Heather’s fingers were slick with her own juices and the flavored cream. She lifted her hand to his mouth, smearing it on his lips then when he parted them, she slid two of her fingers inside his mouth.
Heather drew in a breath as he closed his eyes and sucked her fingers, making a contented rumble in the back of his throat. Heather felt like there was electricity running straight up her arm and flowing throughout her body. His tongue, hot and wet, working around her fingers was so exquisitely sensual that the muscles in her pussy began to quiver.
She pulled her fingers from his mouth and shifted in the chair so that, now, both of her legs were draped over the arms. She pressed her back into the chair and gripped the top with both hands.
Colin’s gaze was pure steam. His breathing became ragged.
Heather ran her tongue slowly over her lips, prolonging her own personal torment for a few seconds longer, knowing that when he did make contact, she would more than likely explode.
“Alright, Colin,” she breathed. “I want you to lick me very … very … slowly.”
He leaned forward.
His tongue touched her heated center tentatively.
A groan escaped her as he slowly ran the warm wetness of his tongue first up one side of her clit, then down the other. The combination of the wet lick and the brush of his breath over her activated the flavored cream even more intensely, sending sharp bursts of pleasure up through her center and sparked in her taut nipples. “Oh … yeah,” she said as he continued his lazy lapping.
Heather was turning to jelly under his attention. She bit her lip, locking her knees over the arms of the chair.
“More. Give me more,” she said, ready to scream.
Colin did as he was told. He began to lick her pussy, his strokes pressing her clit aggressively.
Heather jerked. “Oh God I’m so close,” she said, trying to hold herself back, wanting this to last. She dropped her hands to grip the arms of the chair. Tension built inside her, swirling through her like thick smoke. Colin flicked his tongue over her sensitive bud. Heather gasped, jerking her hips up toward his hungry mouth. “Oh,” she said, her throat constricting with the strain. Finally, she could take it no more.
“Colin—Colin,” she choked out reaching up for his thick hair. She threaded her fingers through the silky chestnut mass, pulling him to her. “Eat me.”
Heather heard a deep growl as his fingers dug into her thighs pressing her open until it was almost painful. But then—the pain was forgotten when his mouth closed over her swollen bud and began to suck. Heather couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. Colin murmured deep in his throat while his mouth ravaged her pussy, licking, sucking, nipping.
Her world tilted. She was falling. A wave bega
n inside her, rising up like a wicked tide. Her body took over. Heather bucked her hips against his lips. Colin took her cue and within seconds Heather felt him change rhythm, sucking at her each time she thrust up.
The next thing she knew, she was screaming in pleasure with both hands clutching his hair. She convulsed with the power of her release. Little flashes of light sparked behind her eyelids. “Oh god oh god oh god,” rushed from her mouth as Colin lavished his attention on her bud.
Too soon, she began to return to earth. She released her hold on his hair, her arms dropping as if boneless.
Still—she wanted more.
Colin knelt between her legs, his lips wet with her cream, his eyes searing.
Heather swallowed, a tremor running through her. “I want to feel you inside me,” she said, her voice cracking, her throat dry. “Deep inside me.”
Colin’s jaw clenched. He reared up, grabbed her legs and pulled her closer so that she was flat on her back on the chair seat with her bottom over the edge. Heather reached for the arms of the chair, excitement rushing through her as he draped her legs over his shoulders.
In her next breath, his cock was buried inside her.
Heather locked her ankles around Colin’s neck and enjoyed the pounding ride.
* * * *
Nicolas furtively stalked the hall. Ramsey was behind him somewhere, how far back, Nicolas wasn’t sure. He was focused on a scent and tracking it. But he had to be careful. The Ravens were formidable foes and it wouldn’t serve him well to reveal his presence too soon. Nicolas knew from long experience that even an enemy of such fortitude as the Ravens had a weakness. And that was what he must find.
Two scents held his interest.
The first was the scent of age. There was an elderly person residing somewhere in this maze called Ravencrest. Nicolas could smell the odor of the body’s cells dying. He knew that humans could not smell the aging process as a vampire could. But then—vampires dealt in death, didn’t they?
Moving through the shadows of the darkened halls, Nicolas let his keen sense of smell guide him toward his prey. The aging one would be his first pawn. Then, possibly—the other.
The other scent that intermingled through the mansion was one of freshness—newness. A baby. But Nicolas would not choose the baby as a form of persuasion. Not unless it became absolutely necessary. Though he wanted to destroy the Raven Clan for everything they had done to him, for the centuries of pain he had been forced to endure, Nicolas would be left with a true bitterness that he would be unable to escape should he bring harm to an innocent child. Since the child would be too young to know the legends and if its family were destroyed, there would be no one left to tell the child of its duty to wage war against the horde of vampires.
As Nicolas turned a corner and came upon a staircase leading up, he felt a sense of irony. Horde, he thought. His clutch was the only one left and its members were few. Not enough of them to be described as a ‘horde’.
Slowly, he began to climb the steps.
Soon, he would have to increase his pace. If they found out that Ramsey was not occupying the locked room, the alarm would sound.
As soon as he had his form of leverage, the games would begin.
Nicolas had no doubt he would win.
And his ultimate prize would be the wanton angel he’d seen through the window.
Heather.
* * * *
“Is she sleeping?” John asked.
“Like a baby,” Madison said, smiling.
John Raven watched his wife as she removed her robe and climbed into bed. She had just finished putting Skylar down for the night. John was still love-drunk with his daughter, the first Raven of her generation. He drew Madison close, wrapping his arms around her. She snuggled against him. It wasn’t long before her small hand began to work its way lower.
John felt the familiar quickening of his heart at the touch of that hand but tonight—things just didn’t seem right.
“Madison,” he said softly.
“Hmm?” Her fingers kept walking lower.
John caught her hand, stilling it.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He smiled at her. “It’s not that I’m not in the mood. Something just feels wrong tonight.”
“It’s not something I did, is it? Because if it is, John Raven, I expect you to tell me. Don’t be keeping it to yourself.” Her green eyes flashed in the light from the bedside lamp.
John hugged her. “You always have to be so feisty.”
She put her hand on his chest and pushed herself up. “Yeah, and that’s what you love about me most. The fact that you can’t always order me around.”
John tapped her nose with a finger. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”
Her face grew concerned. “It’s not like you to turn down a romp in bed so—tell me what’s bothering you.”
John sighed. “I can’t explain it. Something doesn’t feel right. Off-kilter, I guess would best describe the way I feel.”
“About what?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
* * * *
Nicolas continued to stalk the scent. He was getting closer. He was now on the second floor of one of the wings. He passed a closed door. Nicolas faltered. He breathed in deep, using what was left of his ancient lungs to pull the aroma into himself. It wasn’t the aging one. No. This was the child’s room.
Nicolas bowed his head and placed his palm flat against the door. The fluttering race of the child’s heart echoed in the room and filtered through the wooden door into Nicolas’ palm.
A forlorn smile spread over his lips. Oh, to hold a child, a miracle of nature, he thought. The thought made him ache with a longing that he had shoved from his mind centuries ago.
Nicolas Reicher would never have a child of his own.
He whipped his hand away from the door as if he’d been burned.
He had entertained the notion of having a child but that was long ago when his vampiric state was new. He had fallen in love with a young woman—a woman whose image he carried with him to this day. And she had loved him. Had loved him enough to let him turn her into the same thing he was, so that they might try to conceive a child—a child born of death, but also of everlasting love.
But she—Larissa—had been taken from him before they had the chance to create life from their death.
Nicolas had been ravaged with pain and loss. He had never loved another as deeply, as thoroughly, as he had Larissa.
He began moving again, hesitating in front of the next door for a moment. A man and a woman were talking softly inside. The parents, he thought.
Nicolas moved on.
He caught the scent of the aging one again and followed it, but his mind returned to the candlelit vision of Heather as he had watched her last night in her fury of lust. The candlelight licking her dewy body had reminded him of the days of Larissa and how she too had let the candlelight love her.
His body began to stir with the thought of Heather above him with that same look on her face … eyes half-closed, luscious lips parted, her mind lost to a sensual cloud of only feeling … and he realized why she had struck such a chord in him.
Heather was an exact replica of his Larissa.
* * * *
“Drake, what is wrong with you? I know your aim is better than that,” Grace said, pulling her sound-deadening earmuffs down so that they encircled her neck.
Drake gripped the gun, willing himself not to throw the damn thing. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just … I don’t know.” He laid the gun on the ledge in front of him and raked both hands through his hair.
Grace slid one arm around his waist. “I’ve taught you better than that. When you’re firing, it’s just you and the gun. Nothing else should enter your mind.”
Drake sighed, pulling his earmuffs from around his neck and placing them on the ledge. “I haven’t had to use my skills with a gun as much as you have, Grace. You’re the
cop. Not me.” Drake began unloading the remaining rounds from the gun.
“You’re awfully touchy tonight,” Grace said, her southern accent softening the words. “Maybe we’re spending too much time down here.”
Drake looked around the small shooting range. It was deep below Ravencrest on the third level below the ground. The range was a sterile place made especially for the members of the Unkindness to practice their shooting skills. Though guns were rarely used while fighting vampires, knowing how to use a gun came in handy at times. Except for Drake. He really was no good at it. Grace had shown him every trick in the book. Being a sheriff—a retired one—gave her a certain expertise at firearms. And handcuffs, he remembered. Drake loved what that woman could do with a set of handcuffs. Also what he could do to her with them.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said, putting the bullets back into the box. He picked up the trappings of his shooting session and turned to her grinning. “Let’s go play with the handcuffs.”
A wicked smile kissed her luscious lips. “I’m all for that.”
As they left the range and began to make their way up to ground level, Drake still could not shake his feelings of uneasiness. Normally, he did fairly well shooting at his targets but tonight, he was barely hitting them.
Maybe spending some quality time with Grace will get me out of this funk, he thought. Maybe.
* * * *
Casey Delaney switched off the computer monitor and rubbed her eyes. With a heavy sigh, she rose from her chair, deciding to go visit with Lydia in the lab. She needed a break from her research.
Casey walked toward the lab feeling a bit lonesome. Dirk was off on a mission chasing vampires. Casey knew firsthand how deadly they could be. Lydia was in the same boat as she was. Eric had accompanied Dirk to New York to try to find the Clutch that Kaitlyn had spoken of.
Casey entered the lab and sniffed, her nose tingling. The odd smells in the lab assaulted her senses, making her want to sneeze.
“Hey, Case, good to see you,” Lydia said from where she stood behind her worktable. She was mixing liquids in small vials then capping them. “Have a seat and keep me company for a little while.”
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