Blood Rising

by Amber Anthony

The dinner conversation had been uninspiring, but the anticipation was razor-sharp. What the fuck did Matt care if she wasn’t Einstein? She was gloriously willing, and intercourse of a different variety was what he had in mind now.

  The stairs were just steep enough to make him catch the handrail for balance. Ruth stopped short ahead of him and ground her perfect backside against his hips. Matt ached to drill into that perfect ass. The air turned electric when they hit the sidewalk, and he hauled her against him for a plundering kiss.

  “My place?” she whispered as they broke apart.

  “Your place.” He almost panted. She gave him the once over, lingering long and interested at the bulge tenting his slacks. How the hell was he going to shift gears with a dick this hard?

  “Yeah.” She purred.

  Where does a girl who works at the Five and Dime get the coin for this frolic pad? He pulled up at the curb, steps from her posh apartment building. The balcony lights of the lavishly landscaped art-deco structure beckoned invitingly. He looked at her askance.

  “You some kind of heiress I don’t know about?”

  “I have very good friends.”

  For reasons he couldn’t quite name, Matt was suddenly uneasy. Instead of fishing for a key, Ruth stood beside the ornate wrought-iron door and removed a brass pad covering a speaking tube.

  Confidently, with a sly look toward Matt, she addressed a disembodied recipient. “Not only the thirsty seek the blood.”

  “The blood, as well, seeks the thirsty,” a voice intoned.

  The heavy door drifted open, manned by a liveried servant. Music overcame Matt’s senses as he eyed the tuxedoed jazz trio seated to his right. The elegant marbled floors and massive chandelier glittered in the low light. He was becoming more impressed with his date by the minute. Apparently, she had really good friends. He shuffled in anticipation, hoping her place was on the first floor.

  She led him from the foyer and down a wide hallway. He lost count of the brass and crystal sconces dimly lighting their way. What was happening behind those heavy mahogany doors? She paused before a pair of massive ones at the corridor’s end.

  “You’ll remember this forever,” Ruth whispered over her shoulder as the doors swung open, seemingly of their own accord.

  Matt struggled to see clearly through the dim light. A full orchestra played softly on the balcony, but these people were definitely not dancing. All around them translucently pale men and women grappled over richly upholstered ottomans and fainting couches. Were they fucking?

  The man to his left had his face buried in a moaning woman’s neck, her satin dress hiked around her waist while he delved his fingers deeply inside her. Matt gawked. He considered himself a cocksman, but he’d never seen anything this blatant. To his right, a nude man kneeled submissively at the feet of a stunning naked woman, his arm lifted to her questing lips as he shuddered in sexual release.

  Matt turned to Ruth in astonishment. “What the fuck?”

  His words stuttered to a halt as a raven-haired beauty, hips and unbound locks swaying enticingly, glided toward them and locked gazes with him. She might have been the most exotic woman he’d ever seen. Delicately boned, café au lait skin and light celadon eyes, a perfect storm of dark and light.

  The exquisite creature reached them and took Ruth’s entranced face in her hands. She drew the girl’s energy away with her touch. Her jade-eyed gaze assessed Matt from head to toe. His heart hammered. He wasn’t sure he should touch a woman this beautiful, but God knew he wanted to. She spoke to Ruth, and he was captivated by the musical sound of a foreign language. He’d learned several languages during the war, but this was one he’d never heard before. It almost sounded French. Creole? Patois? Some other derivative of French?

  An elegant hand reached out to touch his chest, red-tipped fingers playing over the knot of his tie. He glanced down at them, then back into her fathomless gaze.

  At last, he found his voice and extended his hand. “Matt Brenner. And you are?”

  She gave him a look somewhere between interest and disdain. “That’s irrelevant,” she said in perfect English. “Though, I suppose you should know my name before…” Her tongue played over her lips as she let the thought fade. Her words were replaced by a sinister chuckle. “It’s Veronique.”

  A chill crept up his spine. Beautiful as she was, she gave him the creeps. This whole place gave him the creeps.

  That delicate hand of hers slid up his chest and around his throat with more strength than he would ever have dreamed possible. Her steely fingered grip took him by surprise, and he moved with pure instinct to fend her off. Hand-to-hand training rushed back to him as he grabbed her thumb, barely able to drag it back from his throat, peeling her hand away, and giving him mere seconds before she seemed to fly at him, her eyes opalescent slits. Her skin turned nearly transparent, emphasizing every blue vein, her nails elongated to wicked-looking claws and her even white teeth descended to sinister fangs.

  Confronted with the monster before him, Matt swore. “Good Christ, what are you?” he demanded in a horrified gulp.

  The punch he threw carried all his weight behind it. It barely slowed her down. Muttering broke out around them as a crowd of equally pale monsters watched the fight. She flattened him to the floor with one leap and then straddled him with both hands squeezing around his neck, choking the breath from him. His desperate punches fell impotently against her while his world dimmed from the edges inward. The last conscious impression he had as his world faded from gray to black was the slowing of his own heartbeat and the desperate need to draw breath into faltering lungs.

  * * * *

  Matt’s world returned in a rush of sensory overload. He lay against something soft and silky, and a ceiling fan spun lazily above him, churning heat-heavy air. His attention riveted to his throbbing dick. His vision cleared after a few blinks to see a head, hidden behind a curtain of dark wavy hair, bending over his groin.

  Lips ran the length of his rigid cock with a fierce suction threatening to pull the cum right out of his balls. He couldn’t stifle a moan at the sweet pain her torment evoked. She smiled around his length, sharp teeth grazing him as she lifted her head.

  “Ah, I see you’re awake.” She drew her fingers daintily across blood-red lips.

  They glanced down at the long, thick length of him, so aroused from the trail of gashes her fangs had excited.

  “Is this hell?” he croaked.

  “Oh, no, my darling. By the time I’m through with you, you’ll be certain it’s heaven.”

  Her lips descended to him again, and he was quickly convinced heaven was within his reach. She didn’t stop when his cock hit the back of her throat. Matt shut his eyes and savored the sensation. She didn’t gag or whimper as he thrust his hips up to meet her and his dick slid into the waiting column of her throat. The strangled cry was his as she repeatedly swallowed against him, her long tongue sensuously wrapping around him, driving him to the brink.

  “Oh, fuck!” he gasped as she used her sharp nails to fondle his balls.

  It was an act that should have taken him the last millimeter forward to a blinding release, and yet none came. Bewildered, he shuddered and plunged repeated into her icy mouth. He was right there. What was missing? The hot cum scorched out of his tight sack and edged up the length of his cool dick.

  Veronique tore away from him for precious seconds. She exultantly leaned into his ear. “Bite me!” she begged. “Do it, now!”

  What the fuck is going on, he wondered fleetingly until her lips surrounded him again and all thought ceased. In a desperate sexual frenzy, Matt sank his teeth into her wrist. The impact of her blood flowing against his tongue forced the scalding emission from his frigid body and into her waiting mouth. His orgasm suspended him in a vacuum, sensation thundered through every vein and sizzled along every nerve in his hypersensitive system. He shook, gasping, feeling disembodied.

  Veronique lifted her head, smiling. Long, sharp canines splashed tra
ils of blood down her neck to drip onto perfect breasts. That brought him back to earth, all right.

  “Jesus Christ! What the fuck are you? What have you done to me?”

  Her smile was as tranquil as a stagnant pond. “Don’t be trite. You know very well what I am. And now, what you are. Your innocent mind simply won’t accept it.”

  Matt jumped from the bed in a panic. He was thirsty. So thirsty!

  “Dry?” she simpered, seeming to read his mind. “Looking for something red?”

  Matt realized with horror she was right. He knew in an instant the name of the forbidden longing. It was blood. He wanted human blood.

  “No!” he whispered in an agonized breath.

  “Yes,” Veronique countered, unperturbed. “Ruth.” She’d raised her voice commandingly. “Come.”

  The bedroom door silently swung open, and Ruth, as if walking in a dream, drifted toward the bed. Veronique smiled at her unnecessarily.

  “Come in, dear. I must express my gratitude. I asked for a man, and you brought me a god.”

  Ruth continued onto the bed and lay her head over the edge as if in mortal sacrifice. Veronique looked expectantly at Matt.

  “What?”

  “Now you may show your gratitude for the gift I’ve given you.”

  “Gift?” he began in confusion.

  “Yes. Drain her. Drink the gift of her blood, the life force you no longer possess, but find in abundance within all the mortal creatures among us.”

  “Kill her?”

  Veronique shrugged carelessly. “She’s already brought me perfection. What chance is there she could do it again? Time for a new shill.”

  “You’re mad! I’m not killing anyone.”

  Veronique gave him another sly smile. “It’s not as if you can run down to the local market anymore, now, is it? If you don’t kill, you’re going to be very hungry, indeed. And cranky.” She pouted suicide-red lips. “I don’t like cranky men.”

  Dread and fury boiled up in him. He grabbed Ruth and thrust her away from the bed. “Get behind me and stay there,” he growled, surprised by his own animalistic voice. To his dismay, she stood docilely rooted in place, making no effort to flee.

  The husky timber of Veronique’s chuckle irritated him. “She’s thralled, lover. She only hears my voice.”

  “I’m not going to let you hurt her! I’ll fight you if I have to. Don’t make me hurt you!”

  “Oh!” Her giggle turned sultry, and Matt struggled to process her quixotic mood swings. “Are you courting me?”

  His stomach turned, his thoughts churned. He didn’t know much about vampire lore, but weren’t crosses supposed to stop them? Where could he find one? Matt leaped from the bed, astonished at his strength and range. He found himself next to a dressing table, and as if it were nothing, he tore the legs from under it, forming a cross with the two sticks of furniture.

  Veronique howled with derision. “What’s that? A cross?”

  “I-I thought vampires hated crosses?”

  “Old wives’ tale.”

  He grabbed Ruth and thrust her out the French doors and onto the balcony. “And yet you keep your distance from me.”

  “For now.”

  He snatched Ruth against him and jumped, not caring that they leaped from the top floor, not knowing whether either of them would survive the fall. To Matt’s astonishment, he landed nimbly on his feet. Thinking she was still safely nestled against him, he pulled back to see Ruth’s dead stare, her neck snapped.

  Veronique was hot on his heels. “Come back, lover. You and I aren’t finished.”

  “According to law, you have no right to hold him,” a cultured voice from behind Matt intoned.

  Matt spun around to find an elegant, athletic-looking man smirking at Veronique, delighting in her frustration. The man’s whiskey-brown eyes watched them keenly as his lips curled up in an uncommon smile. He leaned against his gleaming Duesenberg with one booted foot crossed over the other.

  “You must be Ronnie’s au courant fledgling.” The intruder straightened. “Why so glum?”

  Matt defensively backed away, clutching Ruth’s dead body, trying to guard his flanks from the two vampires, playing for time. Sick with regret, he laid her corpse down and turned toward the speaker.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he snapped, trying to decide if the guy was an ally or enemy.

  “Richard Hiatt,” the man bowed his handsome head, “at your service.”

  “At my service? You’re a little late. How do I get outta here, if you’re at my service?” Matt glanced around, wondering what the hell weapon would keep these monsters at bay.

  Richard’s head jerked around to give Veronique an unbelieving stare, and his voice dripped distain. “Not again!”

  “Oh, but he’s so beautiful, Richard! Look at him,” she whined, circling Matt as if admiring a stallion purchased at auction.

  Richard’s voice dropped dangerously low. “You must be certifiable to do this again, Ronnie. One Council re-education is all a vamp gets.” Veronique dismissed Richard’s words with a casual wave, but he was dogged. “Another rape-turn is going to earn you a sterling silver straight jacket and a stake.”

  “I’ll leave the country.” She eyed Matt sadly, hating to leave him behind. Over her shoulder she added, “In a couple hundred years, he’ll thank me. They always do.”

  Matt’s flesh crawled, his mind struggled to adjust to his new incarnation. “I wouldn’t thank you in a million years.”

  Richard’s jaw clenched in anger. “You’ll skip the country and leave your new turn with whom? Abandoned fledglings get put down.”

  “Fine. I’m ready,” Matt spat.

  “I’m not sure you really want that, dear boy,” Richard intoned seriously. “In any case, you’re in no condition to make that kind of decision at this point.”

  “I’ll risk it. How much worse can it be?”

  Richard inhaled a curious breath, his gaze roving over Matt’s naked body. He shook his head. “Are you up for having her prosecuted?”

  “I’m up for anything that puts the screws to her.” Matt’s furious gaze landed on Veronique and his muscles twitched. His fangs dropped to score his unguarded lips and draw his own blood. It tasted raw and angry. “She deserves the gas chamber.”

  “Oh, dear boy.” Richard shook his head. “You have no idea.”

  Matt watched the unfolding events with astonishment. Richard slid his hand into his breast pocket to retrieve what looked like a switch blade. With a flick of his thumb, a gleaming silver stake sprang out, and in a blur of movement, Veronique was caught and staked. Richard laid her prostrate on the lawn and turned to Matt.

  “You’ve been ushered into a dark world, not of your own choosing. I’m sorry for that. Still, you’ll see, there’s justice here.” He eyed Matt. “So, what’s your name?

  Chapter 4

  Los Angeles, Present Day

  From that day to this, Richard, or “Rick” as he was now called, remained a fixture in Matt’s life. Now, when he most felt the confines of his supposedly limitless existence oppressing him, he’d see Rick. Business partner, best friend, the annoying truth was, Rick persisted as his go-to guy for fuckups.

  Matt drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in agitation. His world had imploded. If there was ever a time he needed the counsel of his best friend and more experienced vamp, this was it.

  One luscious blonde not only stirred his libido and warmed his heart, she’d brought him face-to-face again with the unwanted brutality of his existence. He took a deep unnecessary breath, as if the additional oxygen would calm him. He needed the rush of air, needed to feel the wind. With a flip of a switch, the Jag’s rag top folded neatly away. Yeah, it would net him some curious looks from other drivers this time of year, but what the hell? It was a singular car. They’d think he was a rich asshole showing off his swanky convertible.

  Wasn’t that a bitch? He was a member of the most powerful species on the planet, and still
he had to be careful not to stand out, not to cause suspicion, not to have anyone look at him too closely. And what had he done? He’d fought a mortal who’d been badly injured, without actually killing him, and without having the responders eliminate the evidence. Worse, he’d done it in the presence of a mortal woman. That was just goddamn stupid. Rick would know what to do.

  What was today? He glanced at his watch. Yeah, of course, Wednesday, nine o’clock in the evening. Rick would be at The Gaoler, the flagship of the BDSM clubs they jointly owned. Wasn’t there a demonstration tonight? Matt had begged off because of his class, but Rick would be there. He needed to get in quietly, find Rick and get out again.

  There was a good reason for the BDSM clubs, Matt admitted. Still, he was in no mood for a demonstration tonight. Vampires needed donors who willingly offered their blood in exchange for the sexual high of the vampire’s bite. Most mortals, male or female, weren’t sexually adventurous enough to deal with the question, “Listen, would you mind if I drank about a pint of your blood? It’ll really get you off.” On the other hand, mortals who frequented BDSM clubs, especially submissives, found this kind of thing right up their alley. A little pain, a big orgasm, great fun! The vamps got fed and fucked all in one hot night.

  For Matt, it was getting old. He was starting to believe the entire human race was kinky. And while that might be true to some extent, he didn’t want another female who got off on pain and being ordered around. Fuck the power exchange. He wanted a woman who wanted him, the man he was, not just the ultimate sexual partner. He wanted a woman with heart and guts and brains. While he was sure those qualities were possessed by many in the submissive community, a BDSM club wasn’t where he thought he’d find her, not that he’d been looking for a mortal woman, anyway.

  Rick’s warning echoed in his mind. Avoid emotional involvement with mortals. They can’t detach. Matt found that only too true, and avoided relationships with mortal women until one soft, naive blonde with candy-pink nipples and more guts than sense wormed her way into his undead heart. Now what? Fuck!