by Tina Folsom
Haven’s hard length pumped faster and faster, and she sucked harder.
“Oh, God!” he grunted.
His cock jerked, his orgasm imminent. Yvette’s fangs lengthened, and she took his cock as deep as she could before she set her fangs at the base of it and broke through his skin.
“Fuck!” Haven’s surprised grunt barely registered as his blood and cum mixed in her mouth. The combined taste of it sent a bolt of electrical charge into her clit, making her climax instantly.
Yvette relished the sensations traveling through her heated body while she continued sucking his blood and his semen from his cock, which continued pulsating in her mouth.
When she noticed him going slack against the door, she dislodged her fangs and let his shaft slip from her mouth, catching him as his back slid along the door, bringing him to a sitting position. His eyes were closed, but his hands were still on her head, pulling her against him now.
“I’ve never—” he broke off, taking a deep breath into his lungs. “This was—” Again, he didn’t finish his sentence.
Yvette smiled, feeling almost languid from her powerful orgasm—and he hadn’t even touched her. She could only imagine what it would be like when he did. But for now, she basked in the fruits of her labor: he was succumbing to her.
“You—” Haven opened his eyes, his gaze falling onto his cock that now lay flaccid against the dark nest of curls. There were remnants of blood at the base, and the little puncture wounds were still visible. His eyes opened wide. “You bit me!”
Eighteen
“I’ve drawn all the blinds,” Oliver’s voice came from inside the apartment. “You can come in now.”
Zane reached for the doorknob and pushed the door open, entering the dimly lit place before letting the lock snap in behind him. Oliver, Samson’s human assistant, did have his uses. Making areas vampire-safe was one of them. Not that Francine, who’d accompanied them, couldn’t have done the same thing, but frankly, Zane didn’t trust her. And while he was many things, he was never careless with his own life. After all, he only had the one.
“Thanks, Oliver, appreciate it.”
He walked past the kid—which clearly he was when you looked at him: fresh faced, early twenties, barely the appearance of a stubble or the suspicion that he could even grow a beard. His hair was a dark mess with each single strand seemingly sticking into another direction no matter how often he ran his hand through it to tame it into a neat coiffure. The effort was wasted—Oliver’s hair did what it wanted to do.
His eyes were clear and bright. He was a good kid—a kid worthy of knowing their secrets. And a kid, he suspected from his interactions with him, who wanted to be just like them, like the vampires who worked for Scanguards.
“If I can help with anything—”
“Just watch the door.” When disappointment flitted across Oliver’s face, Zane added “thanks” and nearly choked on the word. Yuck, he was turning soft.
Haven’s apartment had been easy to find. Once the witch had given them his full name, Gabriel had made a few well-placed calls to some trusted sources at the City and the Police Department and been surprised to find out what Haven Montgomery was: a bounty hunter. Apparently a pretty good one too.
That’s just what they needed: a bounty hunter who was also a witch. Not that the witch part was evident anywhere in Haven’s apartment. Zane swept the one-bedroom place with his usual cold efficiency, taking in the many boxes both in the living room as well as the small bedroom. Either the man had just moved in, or he was ready to move out.
Zane wouldn’t let the latter thing happen. He’d nab the asshole before he could get away.
A sigh behind him made him turn. Francine stood in front of the faux fireplace with a framed picture in her hands. Zane approached her and looked over her shoulder.
“What’s that?”
Francine shrieked, a sound spreading a feeling of satisfaction in Zane’s chest. He still had it: he could even sneak up on a witch, and their senses were said to be superior to those of mere humans. And he might as well make it clear to her that he was watching her every second. If she was planning to trick him, he’d be right on her, because there was no way he believed that Francine would betray a fellow witch, particularly not one she seemed to know personally.
“Who are they?” Zane asked, pointing at the picture with the two boys and the baby which Francine held so tightly her knuckles had turned white.
“Haven and his brother Wesley. And the baby is Katie. So tragic.”
“What’s so tragic about that?”
“Katie was kidnapped twenty-two years ago and never seen again.”
Zane grunted. It wasn’t his problem. “What about Haven? What can you tell me about him? What are his powers?”
Francine shrugged and placed the picture back onto the mantel. “I’m not sure he ever received his powers. Nor Wesley for that matter.”
“Are you trying to tell me he’s not a witch? I don’t buy that. He used witchcraft to overpower my colleague. How stupid do you think I am?”
The witch glared at him. “All I’m saying is that I don’t know what happened to him. I haven’t seen him in over twenty years. I didn’t even know he was back.”
Zane pulled in a deep breath. “What about his parents? Are you still in contact with them?”
She shook her head. “His father left before Katie was born, and Jennifer was murdered twenty-two years ago.” She paused, and her eyes met his. “By a vampire.”
Fuck! That wasn’t good. Not only was the guy a bounty hunter and a witch, he also had a very good reason to hate vampires and to want to take revenge on them.
“The same vampire who kidnapped Katie.”
Two very good reasons.
What better motivation than wanting to avenge one’s mother and sister? And Zane knew all about motivation and hate and how it could carry you through the long years of solitude. How it would nurture the drive for revenge, for getting even, how those reasons would fuel the hatred and wipe out anything else in your heart. To destroy those who destroyed your family: it was the greatest motivator Zane had ever known. Haven would be a formidable opponent, who would fight to the death.
“Fuck!” Zane grumbled under his breath. “What about his brother, Wesley?”
“Wherever Haven is, Wesley isn’t far. They stick together like glue. Haven was like a father to Wesley.”
“What happened to them after their mother’s death?” It wasn’t compassion that made him ask—compassion was an emotion for pussies—no, he needed to know all he could about his enemy to find his weak spot.
“The boys were sent to a great-uncle in Iowa. He was their only relative.”
“And the father?” How could a father abandon his children when they needed him most?
Francine cast her eyes downward in an attempt to avoid his scrutinizing gaze. Was she hiding something? “He wanted nothing to do with them.”
There was more to the story, and he knew it. “Why?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Zane didn’t buy it. “Is he a witch too?”
Francine’s eyes flew back to his face. “No. Of course not. Jennifer was the witch. Her husband was fully human.”
“Why did he leave them?”
“How would I know? Married people split up all the time.” Francine’s voice sounded firm on the surface, but Zane picked up a slight tremble at the end of her sentence. The woman was lying to him.
“I’m asking again, and this time I want to know the truth. Why did he leave them?”
Francine turned away and walked toward the kitchen. “It’s not important.”
Zane stalked behind her. “I say it is.”
“Let it be, vampire. Nothing good will come of it.”
At the kitchen door, he held her back with a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me now.” He tightened his grip and lowered his face to her neck. “Or I’m going to take a bite out of you.”
Fran
cine jabbed her elbow back, landing it in his ribs, but his body was so hard, it barely registered.
“You don’t want to be at the receiving end of my witchcraft,” she warned.
“I can bite faster than you can cast a spell.” Zane wasn’t a hundred percent sure his claim was accurate, but hell, he could bluff. He’d never seen Francine exercise her powers on any of his colleagues, so he didn’t know what she was capable of. “And I bet you wouldn’t want me to tell Gabriel that you’re withholding information. Once his trust in someone is shattered, he can be quite ruthless.”
Francine pulled her shoulder free of his grip, and he allowed it, realizing from her silence that she was ready to comply. She didn’t look at him; instead, she simply stared into the kitchen.
“Haven’s father didn’t want Katie to be born.”
“What?” He couldn’t have heard right. “He wanted his wife to abort?”
“When he found out about the prophecy and realized it would be fulfilled, he implored Jennifer to terminate the pregnancy. But she refused.”
“Hold it: what prophecy?” Zane never liked the sound of things like prophecies, fate, and other such nonsense.
Francine turned to face him. “The three children of a simple witch will become the most powerful witches of our era and will upset the power balance of the underworld. When Whit, Jennifer’s husband, found out about it, he felt betrayed by her. All she wanted from him was those three children, so they would become the Power of Three. So they would rule the underworld.”
“Ah, shit!” What the fuck had they gotten into now? If Haven was so powerful, how could they ever rescue Yvette? “If that’s true Yvette’s as good as dead.”
Francine shook her head. “Haven’s not a bad man.”
Zane let out a bitter laugh. “And what makes him not evil? You said you haven’t even seen him in twenty years. The boy you knew doesn’t exist anymore. He’s a powerful witch, and he’ll kill Yvette. If she isn’t already dead.”
“No, he can’t. The prophecy was never fulfilled.”
“What?”
“Without Katie, there is no Power of Three. And Katie is gone; I searched for her myself. Jennifer was my friend, and as misguided as she was about wanting to harness her children’s power, her children deserved better. I could never find where Katie had been taken. And I wasn’t the only one looking for her. For all I know the vampire who took her killed her.”
“Why?”
“To make certain that the three siblings would never join to become the Power of Three. Separating them forever is the only way to stop the prophecy.”
Was that the light at the end of the tunnel, or just an approaching train? “Does that mean Haven is not as powerful as we think?”
Francine glanced around the kitchen. “From what I can see here, it seems he doesn’t even practice witchcraft.” She opened a drawer, then a few cabinets. “Nothing in here tells me that he makes potions.”
“But Yvette was overpowered with a potion. Some pink smoke or something.” Zane stroked his palm over his bald head trying to release the stiffness in his neck and shoulders.
“There’s nothing here that would make that kind of potion. There’s no residue anywhere.” She pointed toward the pots that were stacked next to the stove. “Those pots have never seen a witch’s potion. If they had, I would be able to sense it. You can trust me on that, vampire.”
Could he? What choice did he have? But one questions still hung in the air.
“Why are you helping us find him?”
“Because I need to know what happened to him, and if he’s truly turned bad, then maybe I can help him turn his life around. I feel responsible for not having stopped Jennifer when I still could have. I owe her children.”
Zane nodded. At least the witch had some noble reason. “How do we find him?”
“We need something that has his DNA on it so I can scry for him.”
“Bathroom,” he instantly answered and left the kitchen.
The bathroom was tiny and in dire need of an upgrade. Cracks in the sink and the bathtub revealed that the rental apartment was not in the best shape. Add to that the sketchy neighborhood, and Zane knew that Haven wasn’t here to stay. The faster they found him, the better before he slipped through their fingers.
Francine squeezed into the tight space just behind him, a fact Zane didn’t appreciate. He was fully capable of finding some hair or fingernails without her help.
“Anything?”
Annoyance made his gut constrict and his fangs lengthen. “I’ve got it under control.” With his broad back, he blocked her from impeding his search any further.
The sink was clear of any hair, and the stained counter showed no fingernail clippings either. Zane bent down and reached for the small trash bin. His nostrils picked up the faint scent of blood. He tipped the bin over and emptied its contents onto the counter. An empty toilet paper roll tumbled onto the floor. Dental floss and the packaging of toothpaste were intermingled with tissue paper.
“Looks like he cut himself shaving,” Zane said and pulled out a tissue with a bright red blood stain. “Can you use that?”
He turned on his heels and held the stained tissue up for Francine to see.
“Perfect.” She took it.
“Let’s go,” he ordered and tried to shuffle her out of the room.
She blocked his exit, looking past his shoulder. “Are you just gonna leave the trash like that?”
Just as he’d started to dislike her less, she had to piss him off. “What am I? The maid?” he hissed and shoved her out of his way.
Nineteen
“I can’t believe you did this! Letting your dick rule! Stupid!”
Wesley was giving him shit for fucking Yvette in the bathroom. Not that the location had anything to do with it. Besides, Wes didn’t even have his facts straight—yet Haven had no intention of correcting his brother’s incorrect assumptions. Haven hadn’t even fucked Yvette, no, she had fucked him. Royally. And instead of being pissed at her for biting his dick while she was blowing him like a world champion in oral gymnastics, he was craving more. How perverted was that?
Something was so wrong with that, but his brother was the last person he’d admit it to.
“It’s none of your fucking business,” Haven growled sotto voce. “And keep your voice down. She can hear you.”
Wesley planted his hands at his waist and glared over Haven’s shoulder. “Oh, I want her to hear me.”
Haven cringed. After the unbelievably intense pleasure Yvette had given him only minutes earlier, the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel dirty. He’d not even had a chance to tell her how much he’d enjoyed her mouth on him. By the time the knowledge that she’d bitten him had sunk in, she’d already hightailed it out of the bathroom. He hadn’t told her that despite his demand not to bite him again, he’d secretly hoped she would. And when she had, the pleasure had been so amazing that he’d had to collect his brain cells off the bathroom floor afterwards.
Even now, he wanted nothing more than to press her against him and kiss her until she passed out from lack of oxygen. If vampires could pass out like that. Yeah, fuck, he’d gotten the best blowjob of his life from a vampire. How ironic. After chasing and killing her kind for years, karma had suddenly caught up with him. If that wasn’t poetic justice!
“Let it go, Wes. What’s between me and Yvette has nothing to do with you.”
Wes gave him a stern look. “She will be the death of you. And don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.” Then he turned away and sat down next to Kimberly, who’d watched them intently.
Haven directed his gaze toward Yvette, who leaned against the wall furthest from them, feigning interest in her fingernails. But under her lashes, she watched him. When he walked toward her, her body tensed almost unnoticeably.
A foot away from her, he stopped. “We need to talk.”
She raised her head in inquiry. “About?” Her eyelashes fluttered innocently. And
there he’d thought Kimberly was the actress in the room.
“Do you need me to spell it out?” He kept his voice low, not wanting to be overheard by his brother and sister. Sister—how wonderful that word suddenly felt. He glanced back at them and took in his little sister’s appearance for a moment, before turning back to Yvette. “Or have you suddenly gone shy?”
Yvette tilted her chin up and huffed.
“Good. Then tell me something: what happened in there?”
“I don’t know what you mean. You’re gonna have to be a little bit more specific.”
With a quick sideways glance, he dropped his voice even lower. Placing one hand against the wall behind her, he moved his mouth closer to her ear. “Why suck me like that and then not let me give you the same pleasure in return?”
The quick intake of breath told him that his question had surprised her. Good—the last thing he wanted to be was predictable. Predictable never got the girl.
Got the girl?
What the hell was he thinking?
“You were pissed with me for biting you,” Yvette interrupted his thought process.
Haven cleared his throat. Pissed wasn’t the right P-word—pleased, pleasured, perfect were more like it. “Right.” Where the fuck was he going with this? Why was he trying to seduce her? Yet, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Did it give you pleasure to bite me while you sucked me? Did you like the taste?” This was clearly his dick talking, but he had no idea how to shut that stupid idiot up.
Yvette’s chest rose as she inhaled, her breasts brushing against his chest. “What do you want from me?”
Haven moved his body closer, his erection sliding against her hip as he tilted his body sideways so his brother couldn’t observe that he’d gotten another hard-on just by talking to Yvette.
“I want to fuck you until we’re both delirious.”
***
Yvette’s heart stuttered in excitement. Haven’s words and body language told her everything she needed to know: he couldn’t stay away from her. And all it had taken was a blowjob and a bite. How simple. He was on the hook. Now she only needed to reel him in, lull him deeper into the deception that she wanted him, and then toss him out like a used tool which had served its duty.