“Not my preference,” Nicolas said, tightening his jaw. “I’d like to catch him first.”
“If he comes for you, then what?” Chessa whispered.
“We give him another body to inhabit.” He hoped she didn’t ask whose, because he hadn’t thought that far ahead. Someone would have to be sacrificed. “An immortal one. Something he can’t kill to escape.”
“Can’t the bastard die?” Lieutenant Williams asked.
“We tried centuries ago. If there’s a weapon that can kill him, we haven’t found it.”
Chessa looked at the employee file picture of Bernie Watson. She’d known him by name, but couldn’t remember much more. His file said he had family here. A wife, two children.
If his family spotted him on the streets now, they’d be defenseless.
She handed the photo to Nicolas who glanced at it quickly and passed it to Alex.
They sat in an empty interrogation room. By her choice. She didn’t want Nicolas standing in her space. Leaving his scent behind, burnishing the sight of his broad shoulders and lean body in the place she spent more time than her home.
Alex sat in the circle, seemingly oblivious to the anger rolling off those broad shoulders. But she felt the searing heat each time Nicolas’s steady gaze landed on her—and passed to Alex.
He knew.
Could likely smell the lingering scent of arousal that had enveloped them both back in the blood bar. Chessa licked her lips, nervous now because sensual heat was rising again to choke her.
Damn Natalie and her virgin pheromones. Chessa had always kept a tight lid on her desires, letting them out at will when she needed to feed, closing the dark bottle with a vicious twist when she’d satisfied her hungers.
That ability was gone. Seated beside two of the men she’d had sex with in the last twenty-four hours was testing her control.
She squirmed on her seat, fighting the clenching of inner muscles that remembered the stretch and burn of Nicolas’s big cock and the fierce lash of Alex’s tongue on her swollen clit.
They had more important things to worry about. A demon to capture—and the sooner the better. Maybe then she’d get her life back on an even keel.
Alex tossed the photo in the middle of the employee file. “So, what’s next?”
“Dawn will be breaking in a little while,” Chessa said, not wanting to start this conversation. “We can’t scour the city for him.”
“Maybe your partner can follow leads on any sightings.”
“I had a busy night, too,” Alex replied. “I need shut-eye same as you.”
“Then we meet back here after dark?” Chessa said, rising from her chair, trying to make a quick getaway.
“Why don’t you head home, Alex?” Nicolas said, his voice a dangerous, low rumble.
Chessa’s nipples peaked hard against her borrowed shirt. That tone was one he used when he commanded her obedience—in bed. Shit!
“Think I might just do that,” Alex said, his tone cheerful. “Chessa, want me to drive you home?”
His expression was so innocent, she narrowed her eyes. What was he trying to start? She’d only known him for a night, but she already read the sly amusement beneath the guileless look.
Nicolas’s hand closed over hers, holding her in place. “I’ll see her home. We have coven matters to discuss.” His cutting tone was clear. Alex wasn’t welcome to join that particular conversation.
“You sure, Chessa?” Alex asked softly.
She nodded, unable to cram a denial past her straining vocal cords. As soon as Alex left she was gonna kill Nicolas.
“All right.” He nodded to Nicolas, an unspoken warning in his eyes.
Gawd, they were acting like two pit bulls facing off over a bone! Only she wasn’t gonna just lie there in the bowl. “See you tonight, partner,” she said, her tone silky-smooth.
Alex’s grin stretched wide, and he lifted one wicked eyebrow as he left, a throaty chuckle echoing in his wake.
When the door clicked closed, she leapt to her feet, dumping her chair on the floor. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Nicolas rose just as fast, his upper lip drawn back in a snarl as he faced off from the other side of the table. “I should be asking you the same thing. That bastard’s scent’s all over you. Did you fuck him as soon as you met him? Breaking in a new partner?”
“It wasn’t like that—and it’s none of your damn business anyway!”
“Like hell it isn’t.”
“You don’t own me.”
“You’re mine. You will come to admit it if I have to remind you every time we meet.”
“Whatcha gonna do? Brand my forehead?”
“Maybe I’ll brand your sweet ass so every time you sit, you’ll know whose ass it is!”
His comment, delivered in his slightly inflected French accent, struck her at once as comical—and just about the sexiest thing he’d ever said to her. I’m one sick puppy.
“I want to go home,” she said, her body trembling with sweet, aching desire.
“I’m coming with you.”
“I was counting on that.”
They left the file on the table and departed the station, walking side by side past the people still roaming aimlessly on the street like shell-shocked refugees.
She noted their presence, but ignored them, not able to think beyond the anticipation sizzling through her body. What would he do once he had her alone? His stark, feral expression excited her beyond common sense.
They didn’t touch. He didn’t glance her way even once. He stalked like a rangy cat, his long strides eating up the concrete as dawn crept between the huddled buildings in the Quarter.
At her apartment building, he held open the door, daring her to pass close to his body.
Heat simmered on his skin, scorching her, building a liquid, melting passion that had her thighs so tense she had to concentrate to put one step in front of the other.
Then they were at her door, and her hand shook as she stuck the key in the lock and turned it.
Nicolas came up behind her, pushing her over the threshold with his body, his hands already stripping away her jacket before she’d kicked the door closed behind them. Buttons popped as he skimmed the shirt off her shoulders, but he twisted the fabric, somehow binding her hands behind her.
His hands came up within her sight, cupping her breasts, squeezing hard. His cock pushed hard against her ass.
God, she needed him now. Inside her. Stretching her. Cramming deep. She didn’t care which particular portal he chose, so long as he did it quick.
“Nic! Oh God!”
Her whole body quivered as he jerked her pants open and skimmed them down her thighs, trapping her knees, then he turned and lifted her in his arms, striding toward the sofa.
He dropped her over a plush upholstered arm, facedown, her bottom raised.
Chessa struggled to toe off her boots, but his hands were everywhere, rushing up the backs of her thighs, parting her buttocks.
Fingers thrust hard inside her vagina, gliding deep, swirling to capture the wetness spilling from her inner walls.
“He touched you here, didn’t he?”
“Yes!” she gasped.
He thumbed her clit, a sharp jab that shot a bolt of electricity straight to her womb.
Then his fingers slid up, and he circled her asshole. “Did he take you here?”
“No. Not him.”
His breath choked. “You had someone else, too?”
“Leo,” she groaned, resenting the fact he demanded the details. Who she fucked wasn’t any of his damn business.
“Leo,” he growled. “Did he fuck your ass?”
“Just his fingers,” she said, nearly sobbing now. Her pussy already weeping with creamy passion.
“Maybe I’ll let him keep them.” He plunged two fingers in her ass, not waiting for the tender flesh to ease around him. “Did you like it?” he asked, his whisper harsh and ragged.
“Ye
s! I fucking loved it! I came so hard I crumpled like a dirty Kleenex.”
“Bitch! This is my ass.”
Chessa was too far gone to care how thin the ice was beneath her at the moment. She sensed his rage close to the surface—savage, hot anger ready to erupt all over her. “It’s whose ever ass I choose, you bastard!”
“We’ll see about that.”
The first slap landed low, between her legs, cracking against her swelling cunt.
“God. Jesus. Fuck!” She bit her lip to keep from telling him to do it again.
“Does Alex know you like this?” he purred, his hand caressing one fleshy globe.
She bit harder on her lip, piercing the skin.
Another slap landed in exactly the same spot. This time, sounding wetter.
Christ, she’d come like this! One more time and she was done.
But the next open-palmed swat landed on her ass, one cheek then the other, over and over until her skin burned and she squirmed again, rubbing her bared breasts against the thick corduroy, abrading her swollen nipples, trying to get off on just the sweet hot pain.
When a noisy sob escaped her lips, he stopped. He pulled away, leaving her dangling over the sofa, her skin cooling.
For a moment, she feared that was all he’d give her—revenge for what he saw as her betrayal.
The soft rustle of clothing sliding over skin soothed her.
She wished he’d say something, even if only to rage at her more. His sudden silence yawned like a dark chasm, one misstep on her part and he’d leave her there. Empty, unfulfilled. Her ass in the air.
She stayed silent. Obedient. Knowing that was what he demanded.
She was Born. Born to lead. Born to rule over him.
That he didn’t accept this role—with her—only fed her desire. Only Nicolas had ever mastered her.
His hands gripped the notches of her hips.
She squeezed her pussy, a futile effort to deny him entrance, proving her dis-obedience as he pushed the thick crown of his cock inside her.
His rich chuckle washed over her, licking at her nerve endings, pulsing through her channel where her body readied itself for his invasion. “Why fight me, when this is what you want? All you want from me.”
She closed her eyes, turning her face into the rough material. Wrong! He had it so wrong. She wanted more, but didn’t dare seek it.
Then his hips lunged forward, and he impaled her on his strong, thick cock.
Chessa sobbed again, tears wetting the sofa beneath her. “More!” she gasped.
He tunneled in, cramming harshly past her throbbing inner tissues, working his way inside with quick, sharp jabs that pushed the air from her lungs.
Her hands clenched behind her, her back arched, scraping her nipples against the rough cloth.
Mindless, unable to move against him, she quivered in the thrall of his hard loving. Her pussy caressed his shaft with moist ripples, giving him proof of her pleasure.
Wicked, clever Nic kept her on the edge of orgasm, stroking hard, then halting until the ripples faded, then forcing her back up the steep cliff with sweet, sharp thrusts that shook her whole frame.
“Beg me, Chessa. Beg me for release.”
“Never, bastard,” she whimpered, knowing she’d scream for it. Soon.
But she didn’t want it to end. The connection they shared, forged over tears and blood four decades ago, was one she didn’t want to break.
As long as he fought for her surrender, she’d withhold it.
Abruptly, he withdrew.
She moaned a protest, muffling it against the sofa.
When he spread her cheeks, she nearly gave him the screams. His cock bumped her tiny hole then circled, pressing hard. Impossibly thick and blunt, he burned her, pain tightening the little ring of muscle.
Fingers thrust into her cunt, capturing moisture then rubbed her asshole, lubing her with her own desire. This time when he pushed his cock against her, he gained entry.
The shock of it, the intrusion of the thick column straight up her ass, had her sucking air between clenched teeth.
“Beg me, Chess.”
“I won’t,” she whimpered again. “Never,” she lied, goading him to prove him wrong.
He pumped inside her, several sexy glides that dragged at the tight, sensitive ring.
Chessa mewled and gasped with the exquisite pain, feeling as though he pierced her all the way to her heart.
“I’m your master, Chessa,” he said, his voice roughening. “Admit it. I’ll give you what you crave.”
“Nic! Oh please.”
“Tell me.” He ground deep then came to a dead halt, leaning over her, squeezing out what little air she’d dragged into her starving lungs.
All right! she silently screamed. “Fuck me…hard. Please, please, please.”
“That’s what I wanted before. You begging. Not enough now.” He swirled his hips. “Tell me.”
On fire, her whole body quivering like a scared dog, she clamped her chattering teeth. “You’re my master,” she whispered and closed her eyes. God, he’d never let her take that back.
Nicolas kissed the back of her neck, crushing her fists against the back of her hips, then leaned away and stroked his hands down her shoulders and sides, soothing her, relaxing her—lulling her into blind submission.
She knew he wouldn’t be easy despite his gentle, smoothing hands. With a quick upward jerk, he lifted her off the sofa and held her there, the pressure in her ass increased tenfold and she couldn’t hold back a second longer. “OhGodOhGodOhGod!”
With powerful surges of his hips and straining thighs, he thrust upward, slamming her body down on his cock, fucking her mercilessly over and over until a shriek of painful ecstasy washed over, leaving her hanging limply, suspended in his hard hands while he milked every last rhythmic convulsion that tightened her pussy and her ass.
His shout followed, and his legs shook, making them both tremble.
Chessa had never known the like of what he gave her. Mastery with a capital “M.”
He pulled out and turned her, reaching behind her to tug off the shirt binding her arms.
As soon as she was freed, she wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled close to his sweat-slick chest, letting the tears spill down her face.
Nicolas understood her. Knew she wasn’t capable of offering love—he had to demand it. While she wasn’t yet ready to admit how deep her feelings were, soon she’d have to put to rest the ghosts of her past.
With Nicolas holding onto her tight, she thought she might be ready to let go.
CHAPTER
6
The air sifted softly through the window, a hot flicker that teased the sweat glistening on his chest. Nicolas held Chessa while she slept, her head resting on his shoulder, her soft hand cupping the muscle above his heart.
He’d been harsh. Angrier than he’d ever been with anyone—ever—letting loose in a way that had him pulling back inside himself, wanting to distance himself from that man.
He’d never wanted to cause her true pain. Sexy spankings were one thing, but he’d damn near raped her.
The sight of her so relaxed and cozy with her new partner had incited the beast inside. Had Alex been a blood host looking to trade for the privilege of fucking her, he wouldn’t have minded—much.
However, she’d see him every day. Work beside him, share time with him. Nicolas could never experience that with her. Not as long as she clung stubbornly to her vow never to return to Ardeal. The old plantation with its inbred coven of vampires was a political cesspool, but he and his team had a purpose. A higher calling that pulled them above the petty wars of the others.
Chessa was a gifted warrior. She had a seat on the sabat that she refused to take. And she was Born!
Frustration built inside him at the thought she wasted herself here. Chessa had an advantage he would never have. He’d been turned, raised from the dead, like every other male vampire he knew. Made a Revenant by hi
s bride to serve her and breed her.
That he’d been offered the duty of guardian to the “Grizashiat,” the One Who Devours, had been the central reason he’d agreed to give up his humanity all those centuries ago.
However, Chessa had been born a vampire. She was truly immortal. Not a reanimated corpse.
He’d felt the difference between those who ruled and those who served every day of his afterlife. Inanna commanded them, ruled their thoughts when she chose, bedded them at her convenience and pleasure.
His position as commander of the coven’s Security Force, even over Born females already serving in the unit, was testament to his triumph of will. Of late, he suspected she’d groomed him for another purpose.
Knowing the wily bitch, she’d planned it from the day they’d first met.
1308
Poitiers, France
The guards had taunted them for days of their coming execution. Of how the fire stacks had already been prepared and covered with hay to protect them from the rains so they’d burn hot with little smoke—until they singed flesh. How the previous prisoners who’d burned had screamed and begged for God’s mercy at the last.
Armand prayed daily for their souls, for he had given up on regaining an earthly freedom.
Nicolas grew more morose and angry at Armand for his intransigence—and for his foolish faith.
Still, Nicolas wouldn’t recant. He refused to leave Armand. Besides, it was already too late to consider it. Those who’d stubbornly withheld their confessions, hoping for the Pope’s intervention, were offered only absolution now before facing their deaths.
They’d both die here. There was no hope left.
“You have visitors.”
Nicolas looked around, unsure to whom the guard spoke. Only five remained in the small cell. One had died with a hacking cough weeks earlier; another had committed suicide, fearing death by fire more than eternal damnation for his sin.
Armand suffered with the hacking cough now, and his eyes burned brightly with fever. Perhaps he’d be spared an excruciating execution after all.
“You and your brother, get up!” The guard struck the bars with a stick. “You have visitors.”
For the first time in months, the key turned in the lock and they were let out of their squalid cell. They shuffled slowly through a dim corridor lit with torchlight toward a doorway from which light spilled onto the dirty floor. Just beyond the doorway lay the stone steps that led up toward freedom.
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