Time to leave the love bats alone before he lost his O+ lunch.
“Next time we meet at a public place,” Ruan growled. “Mirage night club, downtown San Francisco. Reconnaissance will be key. Same time.”
Nodding, they filed out of the warehouse. Ruan closed and locked the door behind them.
Overall, failure or not, Dante’d had a great night. He’d felt the rush of adrenaline like he was in the heat of battle; all from an exercise in an outfitted industrial warehouse. Spikes of adrenaline warmed his core. And no one had ended up with a busted nose. Success all around.
He’d learned more in one night from Ruan than from countless hours studying the Vampire/Elder Protection Manual he received upon Induction into his new khiss.
More than that—he’d learned invaluable knowledge from the best.
How to track down and get into the mind of a ghost.
As he stuck the key into the door of his black 1969 Camaro, he gave the warehouse a sideways glance. He had a feeling whatever was going on inside the soundproof facility was about to get a hell of a lot more heated than an ambush with paint slugs and throwing knives.
Chapter Two
“If God had meant vampires to run with mundanes, he would’ve given us cuter shoes instead of sharper teeth.”
Elder Wives’ Tale
“YOU COULD’VE GOTTEN hurt.” Ruan locked the warehouse door and stalked back to Eve, circling his arms around her waist the second she was within reach. Pressed against him, he could feel the subtle, tantalizing curves of her body. Pick up on the hints of rose hips and jasmine in her shampoo. She was clean. Soft. Pure. Enough to drive a vamp sick with need. “I thought I told you to stay in my office.”
“Is that what you call the room back there?” Her thumb hitched over her shoulder. “An office? Looks more like a dusty weapons locker to me.”
She was partly right. Ruan didn’t spend much time in there other than stocking up for a night out—there was no point in keeping it up. The place was loaded with all the essentials: guns, knives, grenades, ammo belts, stakes, first aid kits. The usual. It was, however, where he paid his bills. And to his credit, the walls were full of dusty old volumes of Vampire Lore and Therian History books.
Okay, so maybe they were both right—an office on steroids.
Gripping Eve tighter, Ruan mirrored her, step by careful step, until he had her backed against a large support beam in the center of the room. She gasped when he thrust against her hips with a little too much enthusiasm. He would’ve been worried he hurt her, but her light eyes sparkled with desire.
“You shouldn’t have come out while they were still here, my love. It wasn’t safe.”
Her hands grazed up and down his back. He arched in approval as heat flooded his body. “Looks to me like you were the one sporting the blue paint tonight. Didn’t think I could shoot, huh?”
“Nope,” he lied. After being with her for four of the most tumultuous weeks of their lives, there was nothing he didn’t think she could do anymore. “Not if the prey jumped up and bit that tight little ass of yours.”
“Then you shouldn’t have left me so long. I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about me.” Her teasing pout pulled into a smile that made his heart shift awkwardly in his chest. “Are you planning to finish what we started earlier or am I going to have to crawl into bed by myself again?”
He hated leaving her at night, curled into the sheets of their bed. But he didn’t have much choice. Forcing himself to stay up during the day only meant he was apartment-bound. Not a lick of fun when the only thing showing on CrimsonTV late-day was Days of Our Eternities and Guiding Night. No, staying up at night was a must, although watching her sleep by herself was killer.
At least they had these few hours to be together. When the sun set, before she had to hit the hay for work in the morning. Someday, when he provided enough that she didn’t have to work, they could spend more time together. Night and day. For now their time was precious. Passionately, wildly, impulsively precious.
Cupping her face, Ruan kissed her square on the mouth, then drew back to take in the breathtaking features of her face. Her petite button nose begged to be kissed. Her unique eyes—the right hazel, the left muted blue—revealed more brilliance than priceless speckled jewels. Her silky blonde hair was sleek and straight, tied back into a ponytail. And her lips—those soft, pouty, irresistible lips—anywhere beyond two breaths away was too far from them. She felt so incredible in his arms. So perfect. How could she even think he’d forget her? “You didn’t leave my mind for a second.”
She smiled, a playful gleam in her eye. “Then what are you waiting for?”
He ran his fingers around the curve of her neck and dragged her mouth to his. Her lips parted for him; slipping inside, he twisted his tongue along hers, languidly first, then with more urgency, taking what she offered. Need scorched through his veins, depleting the blood flow from his brain, tunneling it straight south to his groin.
Hot, fevered strokes of her tongue sparked something deep within him. The primal need to take her, here and now, against this post, on the tattered wood floor, against the mounds of carpet padding. In the office . . . weapons room . . . whatever. Wherever.
Ruan popped open the fly of her jeans and slid them to the floor, her lace panties in tow. His mouth devoured hers. She whimpered into him when he pressed against her, palming her breasts over her clothes. He could sense her lust like it was his own. Desire rising until it choked her breath, weakening her knees. It was like throwing oil on a raging inferno.
She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
With a jerk, he hiked up her leg and wrapped it around his waist. He ran his hand the length of her smooth thigh, down, around, and underneath, the ache in his stomach clenching into a fist as he found her wet center. Good Lord, she was so wet. Hot. Scorching.
He needed to drown in her warmth before the animal part of him took complete control, forcing him to do something he’d regret. No matter how difficult it was, he needed to be careful. He couldn’t completely surrender to pleasure. He was on a slippery slope with Eve.
Like every other time they’d been intimate, the insatiable need to drink her blood triggered a chemical chain of events in his body. His fangs hummed, dropping into place. His veins throbbed in greedy anticipation. His mouth ached to suck at her vein, draining her dry, as much as his cock screamed to thrust inside her, filling her up.
The willpower to keep his fangs on lockdown diminished each blood-pumping second.
Unable to stop the heady progression, Ruan slid his finger inside her. He groaned, feeling her clenching around him. She breathed little sighs of pleasure with each gentle stroke, arching against the beam at her back.
He wanted more. Had to have more.
As he pulled back, open-mouthed, struggling for air, she took the opportunity to tug his shirt up and over his head. He tossed it to the floor and returned the favor with her sweatshirt. Near frantic, pulse through the roof, he wrestled out of his jeans, then dove into her mouth again, his hands griping the soft round of her bottom, her plump breasts, then palming the flat span of her stomach.
“You’re hard as a rock,” she sighed against him, sliding a hand down to his straining erection. “Oh, God.”
He moaned as her tiny hand stroked him. The pressure in his head was too great. The war inside him too loud. Take her. Plunge inside. Claim her. Drink her blood. Drain her dry. Keep her safe. Let go. Stay close. Stay back.
God, what was she doing to him? He had to taste some part of her or he’d burst.
Detaching from the sinful perfection of her mouth and the touch of her hand, Ruan lowered his head to her breasts; perfectly rounded mountains of pink flesh, begging to be sucked and pinched, licked and bit. He raked his fingers across her bottom. Dug into the soft flesh. Licked a slow, thick trail from the bottom of her brea
st to her nipple, then suckled it right into his mouth.
Eve tangled her fingers through his hair, taking in short, sharp breaths with every nip and mock bite. Ruan could hear the speed of her pulse, could see the fluttering of her vein on her jugular above him. More than that . . . he could feel the rush of hot blood through her veins.
He swallowed down the bloodlust spiking in his core, urging him to bite through her breast and suck the blood pulsing just beneath the pale sheath of her skin.
He rose up to meet her face. He’d always been able to stop himself from feeding by gazing into her heavenly eyes. No matter what, he wouldn’t . . . couldn’t . . . feed from her. It would put everything he stood for into jeopardy. Vampires didn’t hurt humans. They protected them. Cared for them.
And he was head over heels in love with Eve. Would do anything to save her from a vampire selfishly digging his fangs into her—even if they were his own.
Except when he met Eve’s eyes, the tender look he’d counted on was long gone. All that remained was liquid desire swirling in the depths of her dual-colored irises. Her complexion was pale. Her breathing jagged. She was close to losing control.
And in no way, shape, or form able to help him gain his.
“Put your mouth on me,” she breathed, her fingers roped in his hair.
It didn’t take two heartbeats for Ruan to grab her waist and lower her to the floor. He stretched her out before him and spread her legs wide. With little control left in his trembling body, Ruan drove his tongue into her. Her hips bucked. He laid a hand flat on her stomach, pressed her down, and swirled his tongue like a lust-driven madman on a feeding frenzy.
Licking up and down her center with cruelly wide strokes, Ruan gazed up the length of her body. Her legs were curved at his ears, her back arching high, her breasts rising up, her mouth gaping open.
Holy hell, he was about to lose it just from making her come.
As the first wave of her orgasm hit, she reared up. His tongue flittered in and out of her faster. Harder. Hotter. She screamed. Her racing pulse and the sudden rush of blood to her core made his eyesight double over.
He pulled back, his own climax a touch away, his fangs pulsing with exhilaration.
In a heartflicker, passion flamed to unbridled bloodlust.
For the second time in his life, the vampire in Ruan reigned, silencing the man within. Wild with hunger, Ruan rubbed the silken gloss from her pleasure onto her inner thigh. Sank his fangs into her wet meat. Took the hardest, most erotic draw of his life.
And for the second time in his life, he regretted it—the moment Eve howled in pain.
Chapter Three
“Every vamp falls off the wagon . . . it’s whether or not we get back on that defines us.”
Biting Back Against Our “True” Nature by Lara Vanquist
“WOULD YOU SLOW down?” Eve felt like a child being dragged to a time-out chair for a punishment that didn’t fit the crime. Ruan had her wrist grasped in his iron-claw hands, pulling her down the long hall to their apartment. It’s not that she didn’t want to get somewhere warm where she could get cleaned up—no one enjoyed being covered in cold, dried blood—she’d just rather do it at a normal pace. Not at the grueling half-run they’d just made from his Tahoe into the apartment building.
“Once you get cleaned up, you’ll be fine,” Ruan said, in some sort of trance. “I knew I should’ve installed plumbing in that damn warehouse. I would’ve been able to wash you off and clean you up properly. Are you all right? Are you cold?” Frantic, he glanced down at the blood stains on her bare legs. “I drove here as fast as I could. You’ll be washed up in a minute. Just hold on, baby.”
“I told you, I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt.” Eve closed the front flaps of the leather trench coat he’d draped around her shoulders. “You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it is.”
She loved wearing Ruan’s clothes, although not necessarily under these circumstances. She liked the feel of drowning in all the fabric. He was so much larger than she was. She could get lost in all the room. She loved the subtle undercurrents of the scent that had become him: husky and protective, spicy and all male. And there was something strangely erotic knowing she was naked underneath. Walking from his Tahoe, the cool winter breeze had floated beneath the coat, chilling her legs. It’d felt refreshing. Free.
Ruan hadn’t allowed her time to put her clothes back on after he bit her. He’d grabbed his coat, covered her up, scrambled to dress himself, and rushed her out of the warehouse like it was on fire.
Now, as they rounded the corner to their apartment, he was still rushing.
“Would you calm down? You’re acting like a raving lunatic.” She tugged her wrist out of his grasp. “It’s just a little blood and you’re starting to hurt my wrist.”
His gaze snapped to hers, surprise in his eyes, like he hadn’t realized his grip was too tight. Like he suddenly knew he’d be leaving finger marks in her skin, and felt remorse instantly. Emerald eyes blazing in the dim lights of the hall, Ruan dropped her hand.
He shoved the key into the lock and rammed the door open, then palmed the small of her back and guided her through. He kicked the door shut behind him and ushered her straight into the bathroom.
Feeling like she was caught in a stampede, pushed this way and that without actually being man-handled, Eve stopped in the dead center of their sizeable bathroom. She heeled off her shoes and kicked them under the counter, then stood as close to the sink as possible so she’d be out of his way. The tile floor was unnaturally cold on her feet, the air sweet with hints of the lavender candles she’d lit earlier lingering about.
Pulling back the black shower curtain, Ruan started the water. Bustled around her, mumbling about soap and disinfectant, and the poor water heater in the building. Checked the water temperature twice. Swept by to get a towel from the cherrywood cabinets behind her. Brushed past to reach for amber soap in a side drawer, then tossed it onto the gray marble countertop.
Meanwhile, she got a good look at herself in the lightly-steamed, gold-rimmed mirror.
Man, she really did look a fright.
Her hair was tugged out of its ponytail with fuzzy chunks of carpet padding smashed in everywhere. She had smudge marks on her neck from where Ruan had passionately crushed his lips to her skin and sucked a little too hard. She was sure those same possessive marks would cover her body and it didn’t bother her one bit. Her lips were swollen and pale from kissing. Her skin flushed red.
She felt great. Physically spent from mind-blowing sex in a carpet warehouse. Too bad Ruan was so preoccupied . . . he might’ve enjoyed this tousled look he was responsible for bringing about.
When Ruan scattered out of the bathroom, probably to grab some clean clothes, Eve dropped the trench coat from her shoulders, letting the heavy leather pool on the floor at her feet.
There, on her inner thigh—raised and a little swollen—were two cute holes, love bites, really, where his fangs had dipped into her vein. Streaks of dried blood ran down her legs—had she really lost that much blood from such tiny holes? She touched two fingers to the marks and swiped off some of the dried blood circling them. It didn’t hurt at all. In fact, the scarlet spot that looked like the entry point for his fangs kind of . . . well, it kind of tingled. In a warm and fuzzy sort of way. As twisted as it sounded, Eve knew, given the opportunity, she would’ve allowed him to make a matching mark on the other leg. In a heartbeat.
She remembered to breathe when she noticed Ruan standing in the doorway, hissing in pain from the mere sight of her. He scooped her into his arms, careful not to touch her wound, and placed her gently into the shower, under the warm spray.
“Eve . . .” The word was spoken as a quiet plea. As if he was the one who needed cleansing, his voice full of reverent awe. But instead of speaking his mind and telling her how he was feeling, he stopped and focused
on cleaning her.
He soaped her up, from her breasts to her waist, along her back, down her legs. His touch was tender and loving. Worshipful. Every time his fingers brushed her body, sliding along the ridge of the soap, her breathing hitched. Her skin trembled. Dampness pooled between her legs. The clenching in her stomach told her the wet heat wasn’t from soap or water. She wanted him again. She tried to face him. Tell him so with her eyes.
Feeling her intention, Ruan stopped her by resting two firm hands on her sides. “No, I have to do this. I’m almost finished.”
She wished he was just getting started. Eve waited, breathing in the steam filling the shower, feeling the streams hit her body in massaging strokes. He finished soaping her up, cleaning the blood from her legs with a gentle washcloth.
“Put your head back,” he said, his voice husky and low. It was music to her ears.
She leaned her head back for him to wash her hair. She could’ve done it herself, but instead chose to bask in his magic touch on her scalp. His skilled fingers ran through her locks, wetting her hair, massaging her head with lather, and then wrapped her hair up in a knot to drain the suds.
When he was finished he said, “Okay, let’s get you out of here.”
He helped her out of the shower by cradling her hand in his, his own clothes drenched from overspray. He dried her off, patting the places on her thigh he thought were tender from the wound. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Don’t you think we should talk about this first?” Eve said, snuggling into the warmth of the oversized towel he wrapped around her. “It doesn’t hurt, Ruan. The only reason I yelped was because the pinch surprised me. You’ve never done that before.”
“And I won’t do it again.”
“It probably hurts you more to look at it.”
“You’re right. It’s killing me that I could do this to you.” He embraced her under his arm and guided her to their bedroom. He flicked on the light above the flat screen across from the bed. A dim glow slanting across the wall illuminated romanticized pictures of San Francisco from the turn of the twentieth century.
Vamped Up Page 2