Blood Hunt

by L. L. Raand

  “I rarely mix business with pleasure,” Francesca said, her voice an amused purr. “At least, not until we know each other a little better.”

  Becca felt her face flush. Change of subject. She was a reporter, damn it. Ask a question! “What about you? I mean, it’s almost dawn, and don’t you have to—”

  Michel growled, “You needn’t concern yourself with the Regent’s needs. I am here to take care of that.”

  Francesca threaded her arm around Michel’s neck and kissed her. “And you always exceed my expectations.”

  Michel’s eyes closed and her slender body trembled. Becca stifled a whimper. Her hand was only inches from Michel’s breast. Horrified, she yanked it away. Mouth dry and heart pounding, she ached to stroke the hard points of Michel’s nipples tenting her dark silk shirt. Michel’s hips rolled, and instantly, Becca envisioned herself on her back, the lean, muscular Vampire thrusting rhythmically between her legs. She folded her legs around the slim hips, opening her center to the hot, slick glide of the Vampire’s sex. Ripples of pleasure streaked along her spine, and she arched, twisting her fingers in the Vampire’s hair, dragging the dark head down to thrust her tongue into her lover’s mouth.

  Jody’s eyes bored into hers, glinting pools of black fire. Oh God, she wanted to come screaming in those eyes. Jody. If only Jody would—Becca shuddered. Not Jody. Not Jody, not Michel. She dragged herself a few feet away from Francesca and Michel, panting for breath and unspeakably aroused. Focusing on Jody helped her gather the shreds of her tattered control. Jody could be with Marissa right now, feeding from her, pleasuring her, coming with her. Wherever Jody was, she wasn’t thinking about her. And I’ll be damned if I’ll think about her.

  She searched the room, half hoping the scenes of bloodlust would put an end to her unwanted fantasies about Jody and help her fight the arousal accosting her inside and out. Through hazy eyes, she took in the carnal tableau playing out in rapid flashes of naked flesh, contorted faces, and orgasmic cries. Directly in front of her, a naked male Vampire with flowing blond hair knelt on a black leather sectional, thrusting his penis between the thighs of a boyishly beautiful female Vampire who fed from the groin of a standing male Were in half-shift, the heavy bones of the Were’s face elongated and his canines jutting out over a full lower lip. The sculpted muscles in the male Vampire’s ass contracted harder and harder, while the female Vampire’s abdomen undulated with wave upon wave of orgasm. Becca jerked her gaze away. Francesca and Michel stood with their arms around each other observing her. Michel’s elegant mouth sneered, but Francesca’s smile was playful.

  “Surprised?”

  “I thought you couldn’t…” Becca blurted and immediately bit her tongue. Jody said feeding triggered orgasm, but those two Vampires weren’t feeding from each other and they were damn sure coming. So did that mean Jody—not Jody, Vampires—could have regular sex? Not that she knew what regular sex actually was anymore. She so wished she’d asked Jody about a million more questions.

  Francesca stroked Becca’s hair, her cool fingertips brushing the back of Becca’s neck. “You thought what, darling? That we weren’t interested in sex with each other? That sex was nothing more than a casual side effect of a good meal?”

  Becca’s face flamed. That was exactly what she’d thought. “No, of course not. I haven’t spent a lot of time thinking about your sex life at all.”

  “That’s unusual,” Michel said sarcastically. “That’s the only thing most reporters want to talk to us about.”

  “Well, I’m not your typical reporter.” She was just as curious as anyone else, but she wasn’t about to admit it, especially now.

  “Well, for the record,” Francesca said, her voice rippling down Becca’s spine as smooth and warm as a caress, “some of us enjoy sex even when we’re not feeding, although usually the experience is infinitely more pleasurable when blood and sex are combined.”

  “Of course,” Becca said, trying to sound casual and informed. Nearby, a human male, who reclined in a large leather chair with a crystal glass of amber liquid in his right hand, groaned and ejaculated into the mouth of a male Vampire. His grimace of pleasure shot straight through her, and her stomach clenched. She averted her eyes in time to see a woman masturbated to orgasm by a leather-clad female Vampire who held her in her lap and fed from her neck. The woman’s stunned expression and her cry of ecstasy ran over Becca’s skin like fire. Enough. God, she couldn’t take another second without going up in flames. “Is there somewhere quieter we can talk?”

  “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.” Francesca extended one arm, and a man and woman materialized out of the gloom, their rapturous gazes fixed on her as she briefly caressed each one. “If you don’t mind giving us a moment, Michel and I will just make a brief stop to”—a sensuous smile turned Francesca’s face from merely beautiful to breathtaking—“take care of our more pressing needs.”

  The tip of Francesca’s tongue lightly moistened her lower lip, and Becca swallowed a moan. Her nipples tingled, and the steady drumbeat that had started in her groin the minute she’d walked in the door escalated to a pounding reverberation. “Happy to wait. Whatever you need to do.”

  Francesca was suddenly very close. She trailed her fingertips down Becca’s throat and lightly along the outer curve of her breast, a caress that might have been innocent if they were anywhere else. But they weren’t anywhere else, were they. Becca tried not to shiver and failed.

  “One day I’ll remind you of saying that.” Francesca kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I promise you won’t be sorry.”

  Becca kept her gaze firmly fixed on Michel’s very nice ass as she followed close behind the two Vampires and their blood hosts. Hopefully, Francesca couldn’t read minds, because sorry didn’t cover the half of what she was feeling right now.

  Sylvan and Drake vaulted up the stone stairs to the headquarters building in the center of the ten-acre walled Compound. Guards patrolled atop the heavily fortified log walls that framed the outer perimeter. Sylvan had doubled the sentries after the attack and increased patrols throughout the hundreds of miles bordering her territory. The air in the Compound was heavy with the scent of aggressive Weres on high alert.

  Sylvan pushed open the double wooden doors and, with Drake by her side, strode down the hall and into the council room that occupied one entire side of the building. The windows, as usual, stood open, and the early-morning breeze cut through the room, carrying the scent of forest and prey. Her wolf rumbled, wanting to run. She needed to shift so her metabolism would heal her lingering wounds. The gashes on her flank and back had closed, but the muscles beneath were still raw and weak. Beside her, Drake stiffened, and a second later, the press of Drake’s hand warmed her lower back.

  I’m fine.

  Of course you are. I just need to touch you.

  She leaned into Drake’s caress and scanned the room. Max occupied his usual place just inside the door, his legs spread and his arms folded across his massive chest. The twins, Jace and Jonathan, young and lithe and blond, occupied opposite ends of a brown leather sofa. Their smooth, eager faces belied their speed and cunning. They were quick and agile in the field and utterly fearless. Andrew, wiry and outwardly calm, leaned against the fireplace. He was slow to anger, steady in a fight, and stealthily lethal. Callan, the captain of her sentries, paced in front of the open windows while his second, Val, a dark-haired, hard-bodied warrior much like Niki, leaned against the wall nearby, her deep dark eyes brooding. Both sentries were agitated and coated in stress hormones. Val had recently coupled with Lara, but they were not mated. Callan’s mate, Fala, was breeding, and his need to be with her permeated the air. If Drake hadn’t been standing beside her, Sylvan would have felt the same way.

  “Where’s Niki?”

  Max and Andrew exchanged glances.

  Sylvan growled, a low warning deep in her chest.

  “We think she’s with Lara.”

  Sylvan advanced on the sofa, and Jace and
Jonathan abruptly sat upright, as near to attention as they could be without standing. Sylvan pulled off the T-shirt she’d donned after a quick shower.

  “Rise,” she said.

  The two young Weres jumped up. Jace’s eyes, a shade darker blue than her brother’s, shimmered with excitement and a burst of pale pelt shot down the center of her abdomen below her cropped white T-shirt. Jonathan whined, his skin shimmering as pelt coursed just below the surface.

  “From this day forth,” Sylvan said, “your loyalty and your lives belong to me and to the centuri. By serving me, you serve the Pack, and the Pack is all.”

  “Yes, Alpha,” the twins said breathlessly.

  Sylvan extended her forearm. “Bite.”

  Jace hesitated only a second, then grasped Sylvan’s forearm in both hands, her canines bursting forth as her face flickered between wolf and Were. She bit down and her eyes closed, her body shuddering as Sylvan’s blood forged the bond. Sylvan stroked her hair, and after a second, guided her face away. Jonathan followed, and once released, he and Jace bowed their heads and brushed their cheeks against Sylvan’s chest. She folded them in her arms and let them breathe her in, giving them her strength and her power. Both shifted, unable to absorb her call in Were form. The two white-and-gray wolves whined and rubbed against her legs.

  Sylvan stroked their backs. “Welcome, centuri. Come with me while we collect our imperator.”

  Spinning on her heel, she stalked out and bounded into the courtyard. Drake joined her and the two wolves flanked them. The door to the infirmary stood open and Sylvan followed the scent of her medicus to the treatment room. Elena and Sophia bent over either side of a stretcher, tending to the dark-haired human she’d seen with the Vampire and Lara the night before. The human’s neck and breasts were scored with puncture marks. She’d been fed on, ravenously. Lara. Her centuri had done that.

  “How badly is she hurt?” Sylvan asked.

  “She’s weak,” Elena said as Sophia adjusted an intravenous drip. “She’s exhausted, but I think she’s just sleeping. We’re giving her some fluid. I don’t have any of the drugs the Vampires use to help replenish human host blood stores.”

  “We should get some,” Sylvan said.

  Elena glanced past Sylvan to the empty hall beyond. “Yes. I’ll take care of that.”

  Drake said, “Do you need my help?”

  “You’re more familiar with human physiology than I am,” Elena said. “If you wouldn’t mind, Prima, I’d feel better if you examined her.”

  Drake glanced at Sylvan. “Will you need me right away?”

  Sylvan stroked the back of Drake’s neck, then kissed her. “Go ahead. She came here to aid our centuri. We need to take care of her. We are in her debt.”

  “All right.” Drake caressed Sylvan’s back. “Where will you be?”

  “Reminding my imperator of where she belongs.”

  “Last night was difficult for all of us,” Drake said quietly.

  “She forgets her place.”

  “Perhaps she doesn’t know it.”

  “Then she will.”

  Sylvan bounded into the hall and cast out for Niki. She scented blood, a great deal of blood, and her wolf awakened with a growl, seeking the danger. Sylvan pushed against the closed door to the room where she sensed Niki, and found it locked. Snarling, she shouldered it hard and the door banged against the inner wall. When a warning growl greeted her, she partially shifted and leapt into the center of the room. Niki, covered in blood and sex-sheen, crouched on the bed in front of Lara and Jody. Niki’s neck was torn, her chest crisscrossed with claw marks, her sex bruised and swollen. All three were nude. Lara appeared unconscious and Jody slumped against the wall, awake but barely alert.

  Niki snarled, “Don’t come any closer.”

  “You would challenge me, Imperator?” Sylvan whispered.

  Niki whined, her claws and canines extended but her gaze downcast.

  Jody grasped Niki’s forearm. “It’s all right, little Wolf,” she murmured, her words slurred. Even in the diffuse light from the hall, her ordinarily pale skin was flushed.

  “Come with me.” Sylvan flooded the room with her call. Her wolf was battered and injured, weaker than she should be. If Niki sensed weakness in the Alpha she might issue challenge, and Sylvan could not afford to accept when she might lose. She had to control Niki now, before Niki’s instinct overruled her loyalties. “Leave them.”

  Niki shuddered. “No.”

  Sylvan launched herself across the space between them and took Niki to the floor. Straddling her, she clamped her hand around Niki’s throat and squeezed Niki’s throat closed. Niki’s eyes rolled in her head and her entire body trembled, but rather than resist as Sylvan expected, she seemed eager to submit. Sylvan growled, and Niki arched under her, offering more of her throat. Sylvan released her and crouched over Niki’s belly.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Niki gasped. “I can’t leave them.”

  “Both of them? Not just Lara?”

  “Either of them.”

  Sylvan pressed her palm between Niki’s breasts. “You are mine, Wolf.”

  Jody said slowly, “We exchanged blood. She senses the bond and wants to protect us.”

  “How long will that last?” Sylvan asked without looking away from Niki.

  “Until sunfall.” Jody sighed. “This time.”

  Sylvan knelt and pulled Niki up into her arms. “Stay here today, Imperator. Rest. Keep them safe.”

  “I’m sorry.” Niki nuzzled her neck and rubbed her breasts against Sylvan’s.

  “No.” Sylvan kissed her forehead. “Lara is Pack, and the Vampire saved her. You’re right to be here.”

  Niki kissed Sylvan’s throat and straddled her thigh, her pelt line flaring. Her hips flexed and she whined plaintively.

  From across the room, Drake growled, “Niki, that’s enough.”

  Sylvan lifted Niki and guided her back to the bed. “I’ll be back at sundown.”

  “Yes, Alpha,” Niki murmured, stretching out so her body blocked the two sleeping Vampires from anyone who might come through the door.

  “It’s all right.” Sylvan kissed Drake and pulled her from the room before her mate’s territorial drive spurred her into a fight with Niki. “Niki needed me. My wolves need to touch me.”

  “Not like that,” Drake said. “Niki has always wanted you.”

  “She’s blood-bonded to me. The ties are very strong.”

  Drake growled. “I don’t care. No one touches you that way.”

  Sylvan smiled. She felt the same way about Drake. “I smell your need.”

  “I want your mouth on me. Finish your meeting, Sylvan. Then we will run.”

  Sylvan’s heart beat hard in her chest, and a hot flood of desire anointed her thighs. “As you command, Prima.”

  Chapter Nine

  Becca’s heart rate accelerated with every step as Michel led the way around the end of the bar and into a narrow passageway invisible from the main lounge. The hallway was windowless like everything else in Nocturne and illuminated only by a few floor-level lights. Apparently, she was the only one having any trouble seeing. Francesca, Michel, and the human hosts strode confidently forward as if they were in a hurry. They probably were. Both Francesca and Michel were Risen Vampires and were likely driven to feed before dawn as urgently as all the other Vampires inside the club. The man and the woman were dressed similarly—dark trousers and fitted black silk shirts unbuttoned to reveal her braless breasts and his sculpted, hairless chest. The eager pair—brother and sister? lovers? strangers?—crowded against the two Vampires, stroking and caressing anywhere they could touch. She was the fifth wheel, all right, and fine by her.

  By the time they reached the end of the corridor, her eyes had adjusted. A massive steel door like one on a bank vault blocked the end of the passageway. Michel placed her palm against some kind of sensor plate and entered a long string of numbers into a touchpad. Th
e door swung silently open onto a wide marble staircase leading downward into darkness. Becca looked back over her shoulder and saw nothing but more darkness. Talk about a rock and a hard place. She could go below ground with two Vampires—and who knew how many more might be waiting down there—or she could dive back into the freaking feeding frenzy in the club. All things considered, she’d take her chances with the Viceregal. Hopefully, Francesca wasn’t interested in creating any kind of negative publicity, and feeding on an unwilling reporter would definitely generate bad press. Becca was the last one through the door, and as she felt for a handrail, praying there would be one, the door closed behind her with a solid thud, and blackness descended.

  She gasped and wondered if Vampires responded to fear the way other predators did to helpless prey, culling out the weaker members of the herd. That wasn’t going to be her. No way. She straightened and started down into the darkness with a determined step. She brushed against someone’s back and stumbled. Her hand slid over cool, smooth skin and silky hair. Electricity coursed up her arm, and her breasts tingled.

  “Michel darling,” Francesca said. “Turn on the light for our guests, won’t you?”

  Becca breathed out as dim overhead lights flickered on, and she could make out a perfectly ordinary-looking hall at the bottom of the staircase. Polished wood floors, cream-colored walls, a series of closed walnut doors. Francesca led the group to the far end of the hall and grasped an ornate brass handle on a massive dark door.

  “Come,” Francesca said, pushing the door wide. “I trust you’ll be comfortable here for a few minutes, Ms. Land?”