I know nothing about kissing, but he knows how to kiss. It must be like the touch of the sun’s rays and the shower of summer rain at noon. Burning and liberating.
Declan kisses me harder, almost violently as his body moves against mine like we’re mating. A low growl leaves his mouth.
He tears his lips off mine and turns me over in one quick motion. I manage only a sigh as he bunches my wrists behind my back. He ties them together with a piece of string. I hiss in pain—the string is covered in silver.
No, please, not silver.
My mind spins out of control as my voice halts. Pain claws at me and burns through me like a real fire. It stabs me, shreds me and drills into every cell of my body. It devastates. I drift off into oblivion.
Chapter 3
Declan
She just fucking passed out. Uneasiness sits on my chest and something strangles my throat. I remove the string from her wrists and lift her limp body off the ground. A sense of guilt surges through me. She’s very delicate unlike the evil bitches I’ve killed. Silver just slowed them down, crippled their senses and stripped them of the cold rationality all the monsters have ingrained in their brains.
Zorica is not like them. I suspect more of silver could kill her in an instant.
I carry her in my arms bridal style and watch her face. It’s the face of a beautiful ghost, the face of a fawn. The face of a tormented soul.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I feel like I’ve hurt an innocent animal.
Moras lived like animals—this could explain Zorica’s weirdness—they lived in the woods while they still walked this earth. That’s what I heard from my older club brothers.
Zorica opens her eyes and blood gushes from her nose.
“Fuck.” I stop as I correct her position in my arms. Her blood soaks into my clothes. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t know.”
Her eyes widen and she wheezes. An agonising pain sharpens her face, and her skin tinges with a delicate grey.
Fuck. It’s bad.
“Zorica, what’s wrong with you?” Something strangles my throat like a cold arm of an octopus. My thoughts circle around the silver string I left behind. Fuck. It looks like she doesn’t tolerate silver at all. “I didn’t fucking want to hurt you.”
“You wanted to chop my head off, you bastard.” She coughs up blood and smiles despite the pain I’ve caused her.
I pull her to me. “Tell me what to do.”
“Nothing. The silver… I want to die. I’m so fucking lonely.” Her lips move, but they barely produce sounds.
She sighs and it’s like a whisper of death as her body grows limp again. Ice fills my veins, but I can still hear her shallow breaths and her thin heartbeat. It’s like a thin thread that will break at any moment.
No fucking way am I gonna let her die.
I huff out, my mind detaches, and I start running.
Zorica
I open my eyes and my surroundings dance around me, all blurry and distorted. The desert looks like this at dusk. I’ve been there twice. I had my day rest in a cavern and admired the beauty of that hostile environment during the night. It was cold. I shivered and blew out clouds of vapour. The sky was like the black expanse of mystery and the cacti around me glittered and exuded intense aromas.
Pain slices every molecule of my body. Stabs with no mercy. Bites into my flesh, destroys my insides and burns through my veins. Silver is poisonous to Moras even in small quantities. I can feel it eating me bit by bit.
An enormous, trembling hand strokes my head.
“Zorica, look at me,” Declan says and it sounds like an order.
“It hurts.” It comes out of my dry, sore mouth in a screech.
“Tell me what you need.”
“Peace.”
“Bullshit. Blood?”
“A nice… urn.”
“Don’t be melodramatic, Zorica. Blood, right? What blood?”
“Go to hell.” I want to lift my hand but it’s as heavy as a concrete slab.
A damp cloth slides over my face. I feel fingers pull at my hoody and remove it.
“What do you eat?” Declan asks. No, he demands. “Blood? Animal blood, right? What animal?” He removes my t-shirt. “Fuck. There are three wounds on your chest.” He hooks me under my arms and sits me in his lap. “What blood? Zorica, answer me.” There’s a warning in his voice, but it’s hinted with concern.
I realise I’m in his hotel room.
“Zorica,” he growls. It’s both angry and desperate. “What the fuck do you eat?” He supports me with one arm and removes my bra with his other hand. “Fuck. Zorica, don’t do this to yourself.” There’s a crack in his voice. “Please, baby, don’t do this. We can fix it, I promise.”
I feel my skin break in two more places. Pain lances through me, but I’m too weak to cry. I’m too weak to fight, to live.
“Zorica, baby, tell me what to do. Fuck. Don’t you dare to die.”
His voice is like an echo that fades and dies. I am dying. It’s grey around me. I can see my own face above mine.
“Who are you?” I whisper.
She smiles at me as she winks at me. “I’m Alena Stoyanov. Don’t be stubborn, sister.”
I groan. Suddenly all the pain is gone and I feel weightless. I feel at peace. The grey void thickens around me. I’m even in a good mood, but that’s expected. Dead people have the right to be in a good mood.
“Hey,” Alena says. “Life is always worth living.”
“I can’t…”
“You can. If I could then you can too. Fight, sister.”
Maybe she’s right. Maybe the smile of that little girl that had gotten lost in the woods is worth living. I found her and helped her reunite with her parents.
I helped the police to put four psychopaths in prison.
I convinced three abused wives to get a divorce.
It’s so little, but maybe it’s so much. Maybe…
A thick drop settles on my tongue. It’s sweet in a dark way, and then another drop settles on my lower lip—it’s fatter, denser. Forbidden. Golden deliciousness layers the tip of my tongue. Life surges through my veins like an eerie, electric current. Strength sprouts inside of me. Need fills my being. I want more.
I want to kiss. I want to drink blood. I want to fuck until forgetfulness.
Declan
She tears her lips off my chest as my blood covers her chin and trickles down her throat. Her eyes fix on mine—as red as rubies. She moans softly and licks her lips with her pink little tongue. I can see her regeneration kick up. It’s faster than mine.
Fuck me. I’ve never seen anything more sensual, more erotic than her in this moment.
The cut on my chest closes, but I can see she needs more. I don’t mind. My dick is rock hard and the thought of her lips touching my skin again makes a ravenous animal out of me.
Her hands rise and she puts them on my neck. I lift her so she straddles my lap. Her mouth opens and I see her white fangs contaminated with my blood—intense redness against sparkly perfection. Her little tongue wiggles, searching for more.
“Good girl,” I say. “You want more? I’ll give you more.”
“More,” she gasps.
“You have to kiss me first.”
I know I’m behaving like the worst kind of animal. I almost killed her with my lack of knowledge, but I just can’t stop myself.
I need her perky tits to be pressed to my chest. I need her ass to rub against my hard on. I need her mouth to touch me again.
I need to immerse myself into the dark taboo pleasure only she can give me.
I’ve been edgy since I met her. My cock has been hard all the fucking time just thinking of her. Now it’s pure madness. My rationality is non-existent. I don’t care that she’s a vampire and has fangs. I don’t care about anything other than her little cunt and her sweet mouth.
I see her little tongue lick her upper lip, and then she runs it up my neck. My muscles shiver at the wet sensa
tion.
“Good girl,” I rasp. “Just don’t stop.”
Her lips touch the corner of my mouth, and my dick wants to explode. I’m on the brink. Just like this. I unbutton my jeans with one hand whilst I hook the back of Zorica’s neck with my other hand. She’s so tiny that one of my hands is enough to hold her. I push her to my neck.
My hard cock springs free the moment her fangs pierce my skin. Heat shoots to my toes. I stroke my cock up and down with my hand while she drinks greedily. I’m all euphoria. I’m all need for release.
Fuck. It’s so dirty, so bloody, but I need more and more. I need my release right here and now.
“Good baby,” I rasp. “Drink as much as you need.”
I stroke myself faster. My balls tighten. Silver pleasure erupts inside of me. I cum with a moan as my seed spurts over Zorica’s thigh and tummy. Blackness covers my eyes for a split second.
I return to reality and feel her mouth on my chin. My eyes fix on hers. She takes a deep breath as her irises shimmer. Her neck arches back. Her body becomes taut as her arms rise. Her fingers roll into fists, and I watch the most beautiful female orgasm I’ve ever seen. I will never forget her sharp face and her sweet, long moan.
I tumble her down on the bed, cover her body with mine, and press my lips against hers.
Zorica
He kisses me tenderly like I’m everything to him, his body wedged between my thighs.
“We need a bath,” he says as he strokes my hair with his warm hand.
I inhale the smell of his sweat and cum—salty allure and musky deliciousness. The divine taste of his blood still lingers on my tongue.
“You wanted to kill me,” I say with reproach, but my mind is still euphoric.
His blood circles in my veins like dark magic, like the decadent essence of life.
“No, I didn’t.” He grazes my chin. “It was just a moment of uncertainty.”
“Yeah, really.”
“If you hadn’t started running, my hunter’s instincts wouldn’t have been that—“
“Quick and cold.”
“Come on, you little Mora.” He kisses my lips and then crawls off the bed, holding me against his naked chest. “Everything’s fine now.” There’s a crack in his voice.
I could have sworn he is ashamed of himself, but the bastard can mask it with humour and his charms.
I slide my eyes over his arms. Tattoos adorn his skin—rune symbols and the name of his club I didn’t see until now. I see scars scattered over his muscular body—thin, thick, oval. Scars after a knife, scars after bullets, scars after fangs and claws.
I see two holes on his neck. Two holes after my fangs.
He carries me over to the bathroom and puts me on the tiled white floor next to a radiator. I watch him fill a large bathtub with hot water. He strips and tosses his jeans to the corner of the bathroom, showing me his perfect butt and a tattoo on his back. It’s an eagle with outspread wings—the representation of wildness and freedom. The hunter’s mark. The Order marked their members with that tattoo in the far past.
Declan turns around, and my eyes flick over his hard cock. He is massive. A flutter goes through my stomach and my pussy pulses.
“Like what you see?” He grins as he winks at me.
He steps over to me and kneels in front of me, pulling my jeans and panties down. I wiggle out of them and then he lifts me off the floor. I’m pressed into his chest as we immerse ourselves into the heat of the water. Declan stretches his body out and I lie, sprawled on his chest. My cheek rests against his pec as his hand travels to my head.
He kisses my forehead. “Better, huh?”
“Better.”
Different in all honesty.
I feel stronger and a bit darker, but not evil. Dirty thoughts swirl around in my head.
I want to kiss and fuck.
Declan
She looks like she’s all fine. A flutter goes through my chest. I’ll never hurt her again. I’ll bathe her and put her to bed. I’ll keep her safe in my bed. She’ll rest, and I’ll keep an eye on her.
I need her.
I’ve never needed any woman like this. I needed their cunts and whimpers for an hour or two. They’re all a nameless blur in my head, a grey memory that will soon evaporate from my mind.
I need Zorica’s body and soul for longer. Much longer.
I don’t fucking know yet what I’m going to do with her, but I know she has to be close to me.
“You’re gonna rest,” I say. “Then we’ll fuck, and then maybe we’ll go out for a walk or something.”
“You don’t know anything about Moras, do you?” She raises her head and her eyes fix on mine. They’re brown back again.
“I know they were harmless.”
“And hunted by your kind.”
“Heard some myths.”
“They kept my kind in harems,” she says with bitterness. “They raped us and killed us.”
“I’ve never been in the Order. My granddad was a renegade. He married a human woman and founded our club with a few other rebels. We’re all renegades hunted by the Order just like you.”
I don’t fucking want to have anything to do with those scumbags from the Order. I don’t fucking want her to think I’m one of them.
I’m an outlaw, a target on the Order’s hitmen’s lists.
“Ah, so this is why I didn’t sense you,” she says. “You have human blood from your grandmother.” She beams at me. “I love humans. They’re so crazy sometimes. So good and helpful.”
“So weak.”
“So funny.”
“I’m funnier.” I tickle her chest with my fingers and she wiggles as the water splashes against the floor. I pull her up so she straddles my hips, and I bring her lips down to mine. Her mouth is so sweet. So plump. So fucking irresistible. “You’re a little enchantress, you know this?”
The water’s cooling down so I lift myself and sit her on my hip. I step out of the bathtub and grab a towel, throwing it over her back. We walk out of the bathroom, and I lay her on the bed. She pats herself dry and dives under the duvet as I wrap a towel around my hips.
Zorica’s big eyes stare at me, questioning. I clear my throat, but a loud knocking on the door diverts my attention. I kick our blood stained clothes under the bed, roll the blood stained bed throw up and toss it behind the bedside unit, walk over to open the door and my eyes travel to Brad. The guy is so pissed off his unshaven cheeks are red.
“You fucking answer that fucking phone at last,” he growls and storms into the room, his boots thumping against the floor.
“I’m kind of busy, brother,” I say.
His furious blue eyes sweep over Zorica. He freezes and then a wide grin crosses his face. “What a pretty little thing.” He threads his fingers through his messy blond hair that falls to his shoulders. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“None of your fucking business, Brad,” I growl. “Get out. Now. I said I’m busy.”
“We need to talk,” Brad says as seriousness coats his voice. “In private.”
I nod at him as I slip into my jeans. “Zorica, rest, darling. I’ll be back in half an hour.” I grab my cut and put it on and then I perch on the bed. I lean towards her and kiss her on the cheek. “Everything’s fine. Rest, okay? I’ll be in the bar downstairs.”
My eyes lock on hers and I’m mesmerised. She’s my little fawn. She’s… so strangely mine. Her cheeks are so deliciously pink and her lips are so beautifully swollen from my kisses.
Brad’s growl tears me out of my dreamy bubble.
I rise to my feet and we walk out of the room and then go downstairs to the hotel bar. I order two beers and we sit down at the table by the navy wall adorned with three 50s photos in red frames. Our booth has navy velvet upholstery and ornate armrests. As far as I can see, we’re the only occupants of the bar.
“Talk to me, brother,” I say.
“You talk to me. Darling? Rest? Everything’s fine? Fuck me. Are you fucki
ng in love, you fucking dick?”
He’s eighty years old but looks only thirty. Looks like a thirty-year-old Viking. I’m seventy-five. My bitches would say I look twenty-five.
Fuck me. I have only one bitch now. I hope I’m not too old for her. She looks so young, so fragile.
Brad watches me as a smirk plays on his lips.
I put my elbows on the table. “I need to tell you something, but you have to keep your mouth shut.”
Until I figure out what to do with Zorica. My grandfather who’s also our president wouldn’t hurt her but I’m sure as fuck he’d tell me to get rid of her. I will never get rid of her. She stays with me. End of discussion.
“You okay?” Brad grins as he grabs a glass and sips his beer.
I lean forward. “Brad, Zorica is a Mora.”
“She’s the fuck what?” He spits his beer out into his glass and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“A Mora.”
“There’re no Moras, Declan. They were all slaughtered three hundred years ago.”
“I found an authentic Mora. And guess where? In the local library.”
He nods, contemplating what I just said to him. “You’re fucking her?”
“Not yet.”
“Planning to fuck her. Yeah, I see.”
“I… she…”
“She’s fed on you, right? I’ve noticed the blood on the carpet, brother.”
I nod.
His jaw muscles twitch. He tosses back his hair and looks at me. His glance radiates mortal seriousness. “You need to keep her in hiding. If the scumbags from the Order find her, they’ll do horrible things to her.” He nods several times. The coldness of his glance turns into amused flickers. “It’s true what I’ve read about Moras.”
“What the fuck do you mean?”
“I’m edgy just glancing at her.”
“You fucking lay your hands on her and you have your arms broken, Brad.”
“You see? The pull is so intense you can’t control yourself.”
Zorica and Declan: Restless Spades MC (A Bad Boy Paranormal Vampire Romance) Page 3