Thrall of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 4)

by Bella Klaus

  Valentine’s cold and harsh laugh made me flinch, and a whimper reverberated in the back of my throat. His red eyes bore into mine, searching my memories for recent events. I blanked my mind, focussing on the time I knelt between his legs beneath the glass table, but his magic skirted around those memories and reached the truth.

  Perhaps all those explicit images were something Valentine installed to keep Kresnik out of my mind. Because I was completely powerless against Valentine’s plundering.

  I slumped back against the door, unable to fight back as Valentine browsed through my mind. It wasn’t the painful or intrusive pressure of Kresnik but the same gentleness he used the day in the hospital when he searched my memories. My breaths slowed and my muscles went limp with defeat. Perhaps the power he’d left there before he died had opened a doorway for him to return.

  “Valentine,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Silence.” He brought his knee between my thighs, bringing our bodies even closer.

  Warmth radiated from Valentine’s denim-clad chest, indicating that he’d already fed, but as a preternatural, his appetites were limitless. He continued licking and sucking at the cut on my hand as though I was his snack, while watching the rest of today like I was his evening’s entertainment.

  As he got to the part where Macavity retrieved the last jar, he made another harsh laugh. It was another indication that I had betrayed Kresnik by trying to revive Hades. Hades, who had enslaved Valentine. Valentine would be horrified by the extent of my betrayal.

  Regret wound through my insides, forming knots of worry that I couldn’t unravel. That’s what Valentine had tried to do this entire time… Protect me. By leaving me so deeply under the influence of thrall that I couldn’t function, I was unable to go on dangerous missions or use any of my magic.

  I only realized this now. Now that I’d had days to replenish my power yet still could only generate the barest of sparks. Thrall dampened a blood cow’s magic, so she couldn’t escape her master.

  It was only a pity that the maniac had overused the phoenix power he had stolen from me, otherwise he would never have known that it wasn’t something so easily transferred from one being to another.

  Valentine drew even closer, his woodsmoke and musk scent curling around my senses. He rubbed the tip of his nose along the column of my neck, sending shivers up and down my spine.

  “You disobeyed me.” His deep voice reverberated through my ears, making my pulse pound even harder.

  “I—” My mouth clamped shut. Whatever I would say next would be a lie. “Please, don’t bite me.”

  “Our Lord wishes to speak with you about your friend.”

  “He wants to crack me open and take my phoenix,” I murmured. “Valentine, please—”

  Still pinning my wrist to the wall, he grabbed the back of my head and held me in place. His mouth crashed onto mine in a kiss forceful enough to steal my breath. His tongue parted my lips and delved into my mouth, devouring me with the same enthusiasm he used to lap my blood.

  Valentine tasted of spiced wine, of mint and decadence, but mostly of danger. I still didn’t know what he intended to do with me after he had taken whatever he wanted.

  I kissed back, desperate for a connection. If this was our last time, I wanted this memory of Valentine to sear into my soul.

  “Open your cloak,” he said in a voice of steel.

  The fingers of my free hand jumped to the clasp. “No.”

  “Do it.” He leaned into me, his thick hardness pressing against my belly.

  The muscles of my core tightened, needing Valentine to fill the void. Without thinking about it, I unclasped the cloak, letting it fall open.

  His dark eyes landed on my jacket. “Take it off.”

  “Let go of me first,” I whispered.

  Valentine’s fingers tightened around my wrist. With a happy rumble, he swiped the tip of his tongue up my palm, settling it between the join of my index and middle finger. I felt the sensations up the entire length of my slit.

  “Now take off your jacket,” he said, much slower this time.

  A full-body tremor seized my body and settled between my legs. I was powerless to do anything but obey this dark and dangerous creature who had me at his mercy.

  Valentine didn’t release my bleeding hand, nor did he stop pressing himself between my legs or back away to give me space. Squeezing my hand between our bodies, I unfastened each button of my denim jacket with fingers that wouldn’t stop trembling. Somehow I managed to get the garment open.

  “And the jeans,” he said.

  “Please, let me go.”

  I fumbled with the jeans’ button fly. As I struggled to open it, he released the hand cupped around my head and pushed my hand away from my pants.

  “Who do you belong to?” His fingers lingered over the waistband of my knickers.

  I squirmed under his touch, trying to get away, but Valentine was too fast, too strong, too determined to uncover my secrets. His fingers slipped beneath the lace of my underwear and down to my slick folds. As he gathered up the moisture, his chest reverberated with a satisfied rumble.

  Heat rose to my cheeks, and I turned my head away from his stare. To anyone observing me—including Valentine—it looked like I was turned on by the danger. I wasn’t. Goosebumps still tightened my skin, and my heart galloped around my chest like a mare in heat. Valentine just had this way of delving beneath my defenses and turning me into a puddle of need… just as he was doing right now.

  The maddeningly slow swirl of his finger over my swollen clit sent sparks of pleasure to my core, making me pulse and twitch with want. I clenched my teeth, trying to stave off the pleasure, but it kept coming in a tortuous onslaught.

  What the hell was Valentine doing? Enjoying one last shag before he handed me over to Kresnik? Great, now I was talking like Austin Powers. Where was Hades when I needed him? I cracked open an eye, trying to turn my gaze to the pile of ash I’d left by the wall, but Valentine’s red glower made me squeeze them shut.

  The pleasure sliding over my clit built and built until I reached a precipice. I melted against the door, panting and trembling.

  “You belong to me,” he snarled.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Say it,” he said with a bite of power that went straight to my core.

  “I belong to Valentine—”

  His furious snarl made the pulse between my legs quicken. “Say my name.”

  “Valentinus,” I said, trying not to stammer the words, but they came out in a rush. “I belong to Valentinus Sargon de Akkadian, King of the Vampires.”

  Valentine withdrew his finger, depriving me of his touch. I lurched forward, my jaw dropping and a huff of disappointed shock escaping my lips. Before I could protest, he removed my boots, my jeans, and the rest of my clothes, leaving me standing naked in my socks.

  A cool draft twirled around the cupboard, tightening my skin, and my nipples puckered into points. My gaze swept down Valentine’s fully clothed form, and I stared up into his gleaming eye. Without thinking about it, my hands drifted toward my breasts, but his growl made me snap to attention.

  “You’re mine.” Valentine draped the cloak over my shoulders. It wasn’t until he pinned me to the door and hooked his forearms beneath my legs that I realized he was trying to protect my back from splinters.

  It was a sign that he still cared, but the more cynical voice in the back of my head that sounded like Coral’s said that he only wanted my body intact before handing me over to Kresnik.

  Valentine reached between us and unbuttoned his fly, releasing a long, thick erection that made my mouth water. My core pulsed with need. Need for Valentine, need for that enticing length, need for one last moment of comfort before he brought me back to Kresnik. If this was goodbye, I wanted it to last forever.

  I cleared my throat. “Do you want me to ride you?”

  His red eyes moved from my lips to the pulse fluttering in my throat. “D
o you think you can in this position?”

  “Let’s wait and see.” I wrapped my free arm around his neck and wound my legs around his hips.

  My legs trembled in time with the frantic beat of my heart. Valentine held me against the door for several heartbeats, his intense stare roving over my every feature. Anxiety tightened my chest, making my breath hitch. That was the expression someone made when committing another to memory. This was goodbye. Goodbye before he handed me over to his master, and—

  I shut off that thought. It wasn’t like I could escape my fate, so what was the point of dwelling on the future and ruining the present?

  My only hope was that Hades would reform before Valentine finished, but there was no guarantee that he would even emerge with an entire fifth of his ashes encased in clay and firmly in the pocket of my cloak.

  “What’s going to happen to me?” The words tumbled from my lips before I could stop them.

  “I’m going to have you against the wall while drinking my fill,” he growled into my ear. “And there’s not a thing you can do to stop me.”

  My tongue darted out to lick my dry lips. Not that I objected to the having and drinking part, but it was what he planned for me afterward that made my heart stutter with fright.

  Valentine’s tongue traced a path down my neck, and he released one of my legs to massage my breast. “You are perfect.”

  My stomach tightened. The perfect companion, slave, or snack?

  His lips grazed my ears. “Utterly delicious, utterly pliant, utterly exquisite.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing back a sob. “If you’re going to hand me over, please don’t—”

  “Silence.”

  My lips clamped shut. I would have kept talking, would have tried to convince Valentine to take his pleasure in my body in exchange for my freedom, but I couldn’t utter the words. His command had stuck, and I wasn’t sure if what I had said earlier about being his property had been a blood oath or if the oath I’d taken the last time we’d had sex had really worked.

  Valentine leaned into me and sucked my neck, sending ripples of sensation down to my breasts. His hardness pressed into my slick core, a reminder of exactly why he had pinned me against that door.

  Holding on to him for dear life, I ground myself against his thick erection, shuddering as the bulbous head of his penis rubbed against my aching clit.

  His touch released an explosion of tingles and heat and moisture flooded my core. Valentine’s low growl resounded against my front and settled into my pulsing bundle of nerves.

  If we continued like that, Kresnik wouldn’t need to kill me. My entire body would splinter for the want of more.

  “Please,” I whispered.

  Valentine drew back, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “What, Innamorata?”

  “I want you inside me,” I murmured through panting breaths. “Now.”

  His chuckle sent shivers up my spine, making me wonder if he would refuse. Instead of drawing back, his fingers tightened around my ass cheek. “You said you wanted to ride me.”

  “Oh.” I gripped his broad shoulders, raising myself higher.

  Valentine held himself at the base, letting me position my opening over his tip. I was wetter than I had ever been, but from this extreme angle, and with my legs tightened around his hips for balance, the stretch was exquisite.

  Shallow breaths whistled in and out of my lungs as I adjusted around Valentine’s girth, wondering if his recent blood consumption was making him bigger. My arms tightened around his neck as I made the excruciatingly pleasurable slide down his length.

  “Can you manage?” he asked, sounding like he would take over if I didn’t engulf him to the hilt.

  My hand tightened around his neck. “Bloody hell. Give a girl time to acclimatize.”

  His chuckle was as rich as dark chocolate. “You’re an absolute delight.”

  A combination of the risk of getting caught, the uncertainty of my future, and the intense stretch turned my body into a raw nerve. I slid down his shaft another inch or so, and quivered at a fresh wave of intense sensations.

  Valentine kneaded my breast and rubbed the pad of his thumb over my nipple, setting my skin alight. I slid down a few more inches, feeling on the verge of exploding.

  I’d had sex with Valentine a few times now—both as physical beings and as souls. I had also been on top, and that had been thrilling, but it had never been as exhilarating as against the door in the broom closet of Kresnik’s hideout.

  My chest tightened, and my breath quickened. Kresnik could be standing behind this door, waiting for Valentine to finish before taking me away. He could tear my soul apart or keep me in a cage as a phoenix and feed off my magic whenever he desired. My body trembled around Valentine’s length, and I buried my head in his shoulder.

  He drew back, holding my chin between his fingers. “You’re trembling.”

  “Because I don’t know what you’re going to do to me after this.”

  His gaze sharpened. “Focus on the moment.”

  All thoughts of my imminent demise pushed themselves to the back of my head, leaving me with a mind clear of fear, and with more than a touch of annoyance.

  “Never mind.” Raising my hips, I clamped around his organ. Thrills of pleasure rippled through my insides, making me clench harder.

  At this angle, my swollen clit brushed against his pubic bone, creating an additional friction that made my spine tingle. All traces of animosity evaporated in the heat of our joined bodies, leaving just the ache and pleasure of being filled and stretched.

  I met his red eyes, their glow bringing out the copper tones of his skin. With the dim light shining overhead, I couldn’t make out Valentine’s expression.

  My insides twitched around him as I moved up and down Valentine’s thick erection, bracing my back against the door for leverage.

  “I could fuck you all night,” he growled.

  A moan slipped from my lips, and I wished he would. I could spend the entire duration of the war in this cupboard, having sex with Valentine against the wall. His thick length brushed over a spot that triggered a burst of pleasure strong enough to make my eyes cross, and I quickened my pace.

  Heat tingled in my core, spiraling to and from my sensitive bundle of nerves. It was like a furnace being fed and fed, until it overflowed. The pleasure spread down to the tops of my thighs, up my belly, and to my nipples, making me bite down on my bottom lip.

  Maybe it was the danger, maybe it was my power coming back, but I clung to Valentine’s shoulders, riding him harder and feeling like I might just burst into flames.

  A whimper caught in the back of my throat. The last time I felt like this had been in our dreamscape, and I had burned Valentine’s soul to ash. I dug my nails into his shoulders, trying to form the words, but I kept moaning his name over and over and over until it became one incoherent sound.

  I was so hot, so wet, so slick, so engorged with pleasure and my muscles turned to mush. Valentine met me halfway, sliding that pulsing organ in and out of me until I felt like this would be my method of execution.

  My core muscles moulded around every vein, every ridge, every contour of his erection, clinging onto him as though this moment would be my last.

  “You’re exquisite, Innamorata,” he growled into my ear.

  I spasmed around him in response.

  Valentine pressed me against the door, taking control of the movements, while all I could do was hold on to his shoulders and try not to self-combust.

  Molten ecstasy pulsed from my clit, tightened around my core, and filled out my root chakra until it overflowed. Valentine continued thrusting into me, lavishing me with pleasure until it traveled up my sacral, my solar plexus, and my heart chakras.

  Sweat poured down my brow and stung my eyes. My nails dug into his tight shoulder muscles as he pounded into me relentlessly. When the pleasure reached my throat chakra, a deep moan spilled from my lips.

  Valentine’s low growl f
illed my ears, and he quickened his pace. As he held me suspended on a tightrope of ecstasy and anticipation, I lost sense of time, of place, of circumstance, and everything melted away in the heat of our joining.

  I loved this man. Loved every incarnation of Valentine Sargon and wanted to stay at his side forever, no matter the consequences.

  Valentine's fangs pierced my vein, and his soft lips clamped around my neck. I waited for the cold droplets of thrall to spread across my system and steal away my senses, but all I felt was an all-encompassing euphoria that assured me that we would never be apart.

  When the sensations rose from my throat chakra into my third eye, I thought I could feel the love radiating from Valentine’s soul. Before I could process what that meant, sparks of pleasure detonated along my nerve endings, and the muscles of my core rippled.

  I convulsed around his girth, crying out my release.

  Valentine’s rumbles echoed across the cupboard, and his hips sped up, riding out my orgasm. With a roar, he shuddered, filling me with warm fluid.

  My own orgasm continued until it wrung out every ounce of energy and I slumped onto his shoulders, well and truly exhausted. If I was going to die, they had better strike now because I’d never felt more sated.

  As my breath slowed, Valentine laid me on the floor, pulled my cloak closed and tightened its fastenings. He pressed a kiss on my lips and turned to smoke.

  “What?” I slurred. Why wasn’t he carrying me through the night, spiriting me away to a hideout, or dumping me into the fiery claws of his master?

  My eyes fluttered shut, and fatigue took over my senses. Maybe I could work out what happened after a nap.

  “My, my, Miss Griffin,” drawled a familiar voice that grated on my nerves. “May I say you look thoroughly unsatisfied? If you’d like to open your cloak, perhaps I could finish the job King Valentine failed to complete?”

  The last vestiges of sleepy euphoria evaporated into hellfire, and my heart leapfrogged into my throat. I bolted upright and opened my eyes to stare up into the crotch of a naked stranger.

  I skittered several paces back, bumped into the door, and gaped up at the newcomer. He took the shape of a man in his prime—late twenties, early thirties—with mahogany hair swept back from a face too handsome to belong to a demon. How did I know his hair was brown? Because the wings sprouting from his back were black. Blacker than onyx or jet or obsidian, blacker than the midnight sky.