“You taste so fucking good,” he said in a voice that belonged to none of the men before him.
Before I could reply his tongue was on me. I cried out, holding his head between my legs. The pleasure mounted, and I was on the cusp, ready to fall over.
He pulled his mouth away.
“Poe!” Frustration seeped into his name.
He chuckled and kissed his way back until he claimed my lips. I could taste myself on him. I moaned. And then he thrust into me. He moaned too.
Heat radiated between our bodies as he moved. He was so thick, so hard. Sometimes it seemed like the pleasure might be too much, but I couldn’t get enough of it. One day, it might drive me insane. Magic, as I learned, always came with a price.
Maybe going mad with pleasure was the price for creating Poe.
A price well worth it.
I twisted, and he took my cue. We rolled so I was on top. He never pulled out, and I rode him. Not slow and sensual. I gripped the top of the headboard and braced my legs on either side of him. With the leverage I pulled myself up higher and let myself drop on him. He impaled me in the most delicious way possible. The pleasure heightened. It always seemed to when I was in control.
Poe slid his hands up my legs. He panted, fingers digging into my skin. He grew inside me, and I knew he was so close and that sent me over the edge. I slammed down on his hard cock one last time, screaming his name as I came undone around him. He grabbed my hips, holding me down as he shouted his own release.
I fell against him, closing my eyes as I tried to catch my breath. Beneath my hand, his heart thumped in his chest. I moved, putting my ear there instead so I could hear it beat.
He traced his fingers along my back. “I’m here.”
“I know,” I said.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed the top of my head.
“I know.”
Part of me wondered. But unlike what Erik had done with me, I hadn’t left Poe in the dark. Once he woke, I told him the truth. Who and what he was. Where he came from. The men he had been.
Erik’s mistakes wouldn’t be mine. He had been controlling. So consumed with fear of loneliness that it drove him mad. We found six cameras in the house. Erik had always been watching. It was almost cathartic destroying them.
When I put the men together, I said the spell straight through, no mistakes. It hadn’t taken long to figure out. As if I was akin to the language. I was born from it, so it made sense. The magic flowed through me, called to me.
And now it flowed through Poe as well.
I left out the part where he would feel physical pain should he have his own thoughts. Poe had free will. Since Erik reversed the spell, I hadn’t had anymore chest pains or weak knees. I had free will too.
Poe had none of the personality traits of the men before him. I knew nothing about the women I had come from. But I suspected it was the same. I was just born into a refurbished body. But I was my own soul.
It had taken some doing, but everything evened out in the end. No one knew I existed, so it was easy to claim having only met Erik when he sold me the house and then disappeared. Cooper was a bit harder. He had been a loved man. Well liked by his patients, with friends and family. I knew it would be a gamble to keep his face, but I adored it so.
Just like I wasn’t any of the women Erik had made me out of, Poe was not the men I created him from. What parts I didn’t use lay beneath the finished gazebo. Daffodils grew all around, brightening the yard with yellow and white bulbs. They seemed to blossom so easily there.
But this home, this life, we knew would be short lived. We would have to move on and find our place in the world.
And the love, well, some might speculate. But to us, it’s as real as anything possibly can be. Unconventional, maybe.
But, somehow, with all of the mess, and the bodies, and the stitches—the pieces fit perfectly together.
About Natasha Raulerson
Natasha grew up as a tomboy hanging with the guys, getting skinned knees, and swimming under the South Florida sun. Tattoos, Jack Daniels, and lounging at the pool are three of her favorite things. She is a wife, a mother, has two fur babies who love puppy piles, and the status of her sanity is pending.
https://natasharaulerson.com
Trace of Darkness
RB Hilliard
Diana Duvail is a police officer and a Sensitive. When her partner is killed in action, her secret is revealed and she’s transferred to the paranormal unit. Now, it’s her life that’s in danger, but luckily for her, a sexy Vampire Lord knows exactly how to save her.
Copyright
Copyright © 2020 RB Hilliard
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners
1
It’s funny how the mind works. How some memories stick with you while others can’t be recalled no matter how hard you try. Take, for example, what I had for dinner last Thursday. I have no clue. Yet, I can recall the night my partner died with crystal clarity.
It was a Tuesday night. My partner, Mick, and I were on patrol with our least favorite rookie, Bernie. I swear, the boy had no more than three brain cells to rub together. He also had a giant chip on his absurdly muscular shoulders. All rookies felt they had something to prove, but Bernie took it to a whole new level. Bernster—as Mick liked to call him—was new to Charleston. Having graduated at the top of his class made him an expert—in everything. He liked to point this out often. There’s nothing worse than a know-it-all, and Bernie thought he knew it all. It would have been one thing if he was pleasant to be around, but Bernster was a grade-A shit turd. He was the epitome of disrespectful. Not only that, but he made a point of annoying the hell out of everyone who got stuck working with him. Unfortunately for Mick and me, that night it was us.
We spent the first part of the evening patrolling the docks. As Mick and I were action junkies, the docks happened to be where most of the fun took place. The spooky kind of fun, that is. What top-of-his-class-I-graduated-with-a-4.9 Bernie—along with every other rookie—failed to realize, was that the academy was one small piece of an enormously large puzzle. Students were taught from antiquated textbooks and given basic field instructions. Basic, being the operative word. They were taught how to shoot at targets and taser dummies but not how to take down a shifter or stake a vampire. They wouldn’t learn how to handle the real shit—the unexplainable things that go bump in the night—until they were actually on the job. Bernie just thought he was an expert at firearms and bullet trajectory, but unless that bullet was aimed at the head or heart of a vampire and fired at the exact right angle, it would only manage to piss them off. Shifters were easier to kill than vamps, but not by much. As born hunters, they were ten times stronger, faster, and smarter than humans would ever be. The academy didn’t teach this. They chose to leave the important shit to people like Mick and me to explain. What my partner didn’t know—and what I’d spent the last five years hiding—was that I was one of those unexplainable things.
Mick arrived in Charleston my first day on the job. I was hired straight out of the academy— which I’m pretty sure had something to do with my parents being filthy rich—while Mick was a transfer from Ohio. Being that we were the two new kids on the block, we were forced to partner up together. Neither of us we
re excited about the pairing. Mick wanted a partner with more experience, and I wanted one who didn’t make me feel like an idiot on a daily basis. Yes, he was that good. The man was sharp as a fucking tack, had mad gun skills, could run miles without breaking a sweat, and was way too pretty for his own good. With his blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin, and perfectly chiseled body, he reminded me of a Ken doll. He was pretty to look at but not my type. I was more of a tall, dark, and edgy kind of girl. That, and I seriously disliked being told what to do—which was something he did a lot of.
It took a few months of working together before Mick caught on that I was different. Not only was I a quick learner—as in he only had to tell me once for me to get it—but I knew things, or should I say, I felt things. I’m not talking intuition, although I had plenty of that. I’m talking about unexplainable things, things that saved our asses on too many occasions to count. Each time it happened, Mick would give me a look. I knew he wanted to ask, but he never did. I tried to talk to him about it once, but he shut me down. Not because he didn’t want to hear it but because we both knew what would happen if it ever got out. Someone would blab about it and then I would be transferred to PHD. We liked to joke about the Paranormal Human Division, but the thought of ending up there scared the shit out of me. PHD was known as the death squad. Good cops went in, but they didn’t come out.
After busting an old man for urinating on the side of someone’s boat and a couple of teenagers smoking weed, we gave up on the docks and decided to head into the city. Luckily, Mick found a parking place on the street outside the Old City Jail, and we only had to walk a few blocks to get to the deli. Over bacon cheeseburgers and crinkle-cut fries, we listened to tips from the Bernster on how to up our game. Mick lasted ten whole minutes before he’d finally had enough, and told the asshat to shut the hell up. Normally, that was my job, but as I’d been warned to go easy on the rookies, I left it to Mick.
As I shoved the last ketchup-covered fry into my mouth, Bernie asked in a bored-sounding voice, “Where to now?”
Mick’s eyes snapped to mine, and his lips split into a calculated smile. “Bernster wants some action. I say we give him what he wants.” Yeah, Mick was officially done with Bernie.
Returning his smile, I suggested we patrol near Uni. Uni was short for Unitarian Church Graveyard. Hopefully, we would encounter a ghost there, or even better, a ghoul. Ghouls were harmless, but they sure as hell didn’t look that way. The thought of Bernster pissing his pants made me shiver with anticipatory glee.
“I told you to stop calling me that,” Bernie grumbled as we walked in the direction of Uni.
“Okay, Bernster,” Mick replied, and I tried not to laugh.
Three blocks from Uni, I spotted the little girl. She was standing in the entrance of an alleyway. Her hair was a mess of tangles, and she was dressed in ratty pj’s, but what caught my attention was her blood-covered body. She looked as if she’d bathed in it.
“Do you see her?” I quietly asked out of the corner of my mouth. I’d been known on occasion to see things that weren’t actually there. Or, should I say, things that were there for me but not Mick. Before making a fool of myself and chasing off after a ghost, I decided it was best to ask.
Bernie’s gasp of, “What the fuck?” answered my question.
“Don’t approach,” Mick warned before calling out to the little girl, “Hey there. Are you lost?”
“My mommy is hurt. Please, help her,” she tearfully responded.
It wasn’t until she spoke that my senses started to tingle. Her voice sounded like a child’s, but there was a certain weight to it, a depth that screamed of something else. Mick lurched forward, and I grabbed onto his sleeve to stop him from going to her. Bernie, who was out of my reach, shot past us in a mad dash.
“Bernie, no!” I screamed, but it was too late.
“What the hell was that?” Mick panted beside me.
“A trap. I need to go after him, are you good?”
“Yeah, shit, I don’t know what happened. I’ll go with you, just give me a second.” I knew exactly what happened. She’d trapped him with her voice. A five-year-old vampire siren, that’s all we needed running around our city.
I quickly explained the situation before concluding, “You’re susceptible. If that’s her thing, it’s highly likely she’ll do it again. I need you to stay here and call for backup.” Thankfully, he didn’t put up a fight. “Watch your back,” I told him as I unsnapped my holster and pulled out my gun. Aiming into the now dark alley, I raced after a man who didn’t know shit from Shinola about being a cop, much less how to kill a vampire. Fuck fucking Bernie!
I found the dumbass crouched next to what I assumed was the girl’s mother. On approach, I could see the glow of his flashlight directed at her face. It was a pale, waxen, creepy-looking face. She may have looked dead, but I knew better. It was hard to put into words. Death was like a void—a cold, balloon-like emptiness inside my head. I didn’t have to see a dead person to know they were deceased because I could feel it. Life was the opposite. It was like stepping into a puddle of sunshine and feeling the warm glow of it all the way down to my bones. Vampires weren’t cold, nor warm, but somewhere in between. Some made my senses tingle, like when a hand or foot falls asleep, while others felt more like tiny ants crawling across my skin. The older the vampire, the stronger the feeling. This one must have been old as dirt because I felt as if I had an entire colony marching up and down my spine.
My heart slammed against my chest as I trained my gun on the woman. She had long, white-blonde hair and was wearing a red velvet dress. It reminded me of something you would find in the Elizabethan era, not twenty-first century Charleston.
Keeping my eyes and gun focused on the woman, I called out to Bernie. “Bernie, can you hear me?” He didn’t reply, which made no sense because the vampire’s eyes were closed. She shouldn’t have been able to trance him with her eyes closed.
I tried again. “Bernie, it’s Diana. Listen to my voice. I need you to move away from the woman.” Still nothing. Shit.
“Diana!” I heard Mick call from behind me.
“Stay there!” I shouted back at him.
A rustling noise to our left caught my attention. That’s when I remembered the little girl. Dumb Diana. In my freak-out over zombie-Bernie, I’d completely forgotten about her. Where are you little vampire? I didn’t even want to think about the kind of evil who would turn a child. Tomorrow, I was going to march my ass over to PHD and demand they investigate. Better yet, I was going to take it to the top, to the Southern Vampire Organization. The SVO needed to be made aware that children were being turned, right under their neglectful noses.
Shuffling forward a few steps, I halted beside a still-crouched Bernie and shifted my aim to the woman’s head. If she so much as flinched, I would fire. Steeling my grip on the gun, I closed my eyes and pictured the little girl in my mind. I’d never tried this before, so it was highly likely it would fail, but at least it was worth a try. I touched on Bernie’s lukewarm glow before skirting past the creepy vamp on the ground—who I was beginning to think was either an award-winning actress or might really be dead. Casting my mental feelers a little wider, I landed on Mick. God, he was so warm, like stepping from an icy mountain top into a steaming-hot bath. Reluctant to step back into the cold, but knowing that I had to, I pulled away from Mick’s glow and concentrated my focus on the little girl. Got her! Her signature was different than the woman’s—slightly warmer and less tingly. She was in the corner by the dumpster. I cracked open my eyes and peered at her through my lashes. Sure enough, there she was, staring straight at Bernie. Damn, a vamp that could trance with her voice and stare. What next? If I tried to take her out, the gig would be up. Who was I kidding, the gig was already up.
With a deep, mind-clearing inhale, I lifted my gun and fired at the little girl. She ducked, and the trance was broken. Before Bernie did something stupid, I latched on to the armhole of his vest and started running b
ackward, pulling him along with me.
I screamed for him to run, but it was too late. They already had us surrounded. I counted five vampires, but there were probably more.
A no-longer tranced Bernie suddenly jerked to his feet, and shrieked, “What the fuck!”
“Stay calm. Aim for the head or the heart and don’t look them in the eye,” I quietly instructed out of the corner of my mouth.
“Stay calm? Are you fucking kidding me!? That little bitch just mind-raped me!” he screeched.
I tried to sympathize with him, but I was having my own troubles, like trying to breathe through the panic constricting my chest. My body felt as if I’d stepped on a live wire. The ants were no longer marching; they were biting. We were knee-deep in shit, and if Bernie didn’t shut his damn mouth, it was highly likely that neither of us were walking away from this alive.
One minute the woman was lying on the ground and the next she was in our faces. Bernie screamed, and I shouted, “Don’t look at her!”
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” she crooned.
Staring at my feet, I said, “I’m officer Duvail, and this is officer, uh—” Realizing that I didn’t know Bernie’s last name, I whispered, “Tell her your last name.”
“Gonad,” Bernie squeaked. My brows shot into my hairline. How did I not know his last name was Gonad? I couldn’t wait to tell Mick. Speaking of Mick, hopefully, he’d called for backup and they were on the way.
Trying to calm my shaking voice, I continued, “I’m sure we look tasty, but I’ll warn you now, if you so much as drop a fang in our direction, the SVO will end you.”
Ice queen scoffed. “Pish-posh. A few drained police officers are nothing to Zacharias. In fact, he’ll probably commend me for it.” The Zacharias she was referring to was Zacharias Wylde, the head of the Southern Vampire Organization. Ice queen continued, “And you, my dear, smell like one tasty morsel.” The ants started back with a vengeance.
Wicked Love Page 66