Sweet Ruin

by Kresley Cole

  Even more confusing? His expression toward Jo was tender. She could almost pretend he was seeing her. Except for the fact that he was planning to see others.

  "Now, where were we?"

  "You were just arranging a couple of hookups for later." Her claws sharpened.

  He cast her a disappointed look. "Jealousy? You're already possessive of me." He too was coming out of a lust haze, seeming to wake up. "I don't do jealousy. Great gods, vampire, I've known you for a total of fifteen minutes." He dragged his hips back, then all but dropped her. "I haven't even swived you yet." He yanked up his pants, dressing so fast his movements were a blur.

  She swatted her skirt down. "Possessive? As if I'd want you for my own." I'd kind of wanted you for my own. I want someone for my own! "You're just a blood bag in a big-dicked package. Who didn't last long enough to get me off." Story of her life! Her lips drew back from her fangs.

  With a growl, he pressed her against the wall again. "You're baring your fangs at me? Defying me again? You have no idea what I could do to you!"

  "Do to me? Other than leave me hanging?"

  "I fed you, did I not?" He trailed his fingers over her bite mark, and a look of realization dawned on his face. "You bit me, drinking my blood straight from my flesh. Something I have never had to worry about. Blood-taking has consequences, female. Which you well know."

  No, she didn't!

  For the briefest moment, his expression morphed into one of intent. Deadly intent. "Such plans . . ."

  Then he flashed her that grin, even as his free hand discreetly inched toward his blade. Shock radiated through her. He was going to knife her because she'd taken blood from his neck?

  Lady-killer, literal.

  Dickwad!

  Too bad he could never hold her.

  "Oh, well. What's done is done." His words were light, but the timbre of his voice had changed.

  As hers did when she was about to kill someone.

  TEN

  Rune inwardly cursed. A vampire had drunk from his flesh, taking his blood--and possibly his memories.

  After all these years of protecting the secrets of the Morior, he'd allowed a security breach.

  Of epic proportions.

  Eliminating the breach was the only alternative. He knew this, and yet he hesitated, his desires warring with his duties. Josephine had given him the most blistering pleasure he'd ever experienced.

  She'd somehow tolerated his poisoned blood. It had pleasured them both, and nourished her.

  Naturally he wanted to investigate this, at least until he'd tired of her--or discovered another who could drink him. If one such creature existed . . .

  It only took seven thousand years to find this one, baneblood.

  And even if he came across another, no such female could trump Josephine's attractiveness. Right now, he had trouble coming up with any female who could.

  No matter what, beheading this woman seemed such a waste. His hand paused at his blade. "Do you dream the memories of those you drink?" Maybe she didn't possess that ability; some vampires didn't.

  "I've definitely never done that."

  He was tempted to believe her. "You're not a cosas? A reader of bloodborne memories?"

  "No."

  Natural-born vampires were incapable of lying. When attempting to voice a falsehood, they experienced severe pain.

  Of course, in the world of the immortals, every rule had an exception.

  Perhaps he should force Josephine back to his lair and monitor her. In addition to his opulent rooms at Perdishian Castle, he had a second home in the realm of Tortua. The outer walls were warded, escape-proofed.

  He would keep her for a while, making certain she posed no threat.

  Yet what if a cosas drank her, then what would happen? Though unable to read memories, she still could have harvested them.

  Rune could never let her go free into the worlds. A permanent female capture? In his private sanctuary?

  Unless he disposed of her.

  Damn it, he didn't have time for this! His dick had led him straight into trouble, and he was no closer to killing Nix.

  He would secure the vampire, debate his options, then return to search for his target until sunrise.

  He looped his arm around Josephine, crushing her against him. "I'm going to imprison you, female. Regrettably for both of us, you'll remain my captive for the rest of your life, however short a time that might be. The longer you keep me interested, the longer you'll live."

  She thrashed against him. "Let me go, freak!"

  He sighed with irritation. "I'm far too powerful for you to break free. Not even a millennia-old demon can trace from my hold." A proven fact.

  "Trace?"

  "Don't play ignorant, little girl."

  Her widened eyes narrowed to slits. "Little girl? I've never been a little girl."

  When she stilled, his irritation turned to bafflement, because she began dematerializing--like tracing, but slower. "Impossible." Somehow she was evading his viselike grip.

  Face gone even paler, eyes even darker, she smirked at his disbelief.

  He'd never known a vampire who could control their tracing to this degree.

  "I'm more powerful than I look, little boy," she purred. "I'll remember you planned to imprison me--at best--and gut me at worst. Guard your back, because I'll be watching you." Then she disappeared.

  Jo had heard of coffee dates gone wrong, but seriously? What a prick!

  After ghosting from his hold, she'd gone fully invisible, settling into the opposite wall of the courtyard.

  She meant what she'd said; she intended to monitor his every move. Tonight she would discover more about his world.

  About my world.

  This dude was old--holy shit, was he old!--so he would have answers.

  Already she'd learned she was a vampire, and there were others. Dark fey and nymphs and demons existed.

  On an abomination scale, a mortal turned vampire would have to be better than a demon, right? Hey, Thaddie, I'm a vampire, but luckily--phew--not a demon.

  Again she wondered if she would live to be thousands of years old. The thought depressed her.

  Rune spun in place, his face a mask of rage. He bit out words in that weird language he'd used earlier, then adjusted his bow over his shoulder. He gazed up at the sky, as if to gauge time, then started away.

  To find me.

  She followed, ghosting from one lamppost to another. . . .

  For hours, she watched as he checked every backstreet, pausing, and then seeming to track down stray scents. They'd gone far afield from the Quarter but were almost back at the courtyard where this night had started.

  At one point, he'd launched his fist into the brick wall of an abandoned building. The force hurtled the two-story structure onto its side, as if he'd knocked it off its feet. Without a look back, he'd stormed away, his hand unharmed, his strength unbelievable.

  Studying Rune raised even more questions. Was it this important to imprison her? Were his memories that valuable? And for that matter, could she dream them as a cosas?

  She never had. But then, she'd never taken blood "straight from the flesh."

  Now she only wanted to do it again! To have skin closing around her aching fangs. To feel muscles working beneath her claws as she secured her prey.

  From her spot in a lamppost, she noticed a handsome blond stumbling along the street with his friends, each wearing a graduation cap. They were trashed, and their shirts all read the same thing, but she couldn't decipher the words.

  Maybe they were graduating from Tulane. Since arriving in New Orleans, she'd often visited the campus. She'd watched students reading, as if that talent was no big deal.

  The blond tripped over his own feet, and his hand shot out to the lamppost she occupied. His attractive fingers grasped it right above her tits. Well, hello there.

  His skin was smooth, his teeth white. What would it be like to drink him? Would she gain memories of college pa
rties and classes?

  She tapped her tongue to a fang, but it remained dormant. Her heart sank. She could not imagine drinking this male. Nor any of his friends.

  Besides, even in ghost form she could smell the Axe.

  She sighed. She tried to tell herself she was full. If she got hungry enough . . . But she knew the truth: nothing could compare to Rune's black blood. How could she ever go back to the bags in her refrigerator?

  Rune, that bastard, had ruined her. Rune was ruin.

  How fitting. It'd be his new name. She hissed in his direction, making the blond jerk back.

  In drunkenish, he said, "Dihyaguyz hearat? Pose histat me." With shrugs, they lurched on.

  Closing in on the courtyard, Rune scrubbed a hand over his face, seeming to curse the rising sun.

  ELEVEN

  Josephine had disappeared. He'd scoured the streets for both her and Nix, expanding his search into the heart of the city, but he'd never caught scent of either.

  Maybe his tracking had grown rusty since the last Accession. Wallowing in nymph flesh could do that to a male.

  He tried to recall his last marathon session at a covey or pleasure den, yet all he kept seeing was Josephine's haughty smile.

  He knew what was happening. Female vampires were notoriously hypnotic, as entrancing as succubae. It was a survival mechanism, a hunting tool--because both species depended on the bodies of other beings for sustenance.

  Tonight he'd been used for food. He should be outraged, but replaying her bite got his cock so hard he feared for his trews.

  Those nymphs were right; he had lost his ever-loving mind.

  No, no, Josephine had mesmerized him. And with her thong in his pocket--a constant reminder of her scent, her arousal--he was primed for her. In time, he'd shake this.

  He'd stop thinking about taking her lips.

  Because he could take them. Dear gods, he finally could without killing. An added bonus: he'd never craved a female's kiss more than Josephine's--and that had been before he'd known he could have it.

  Dawn neared. Nix was rumored to go out only at night. The light would drive the vampire to ground. He would find neither today.

  Though Josephine could have traced anywhere in the universe, she'd be back.

  He reached into his pocket. Beside her ripped thong was the necklace he'd stolen, the one she'd been touching to her lip when he'd first come upon her. He pulled it out, turning it in his hands. He'd taken the necklace for turnabout--his fingers were just as sticky as hers--but also because he'd suspected the piece would have meaning.

  Those bits of metal were spent bullets.

  Oh, yes, she'd be back. He had the bait; how to trap her? Evidently, his hold wouldn't be enough.

  When Rune had set out from Tenebrous, he'd outfitted himself to kill a Valkyrie, not to keep a vampire. He had no traceproof manacles with him, nor in his sanctuary at Tortua.

  The nymphs had told him of a Lore shop in town. If he found a pair of cuffs there, he'd lure the vampire close with the necklace, then snare her.

  Once she was his captive, he would do all the forbidden things he'd fantasized about.

  Clawing, sucking, tonguing.

  Kissing.

  One of his most heated fantasies was the simplest: to take a woman's mouth and make her moan--with pleasure instead of pain.

  The last time he'd tasted another's lips had been a kiss of death. Whenever he pictured kissing, he recalled that night.

  Rune yearned for a kiss to erase his last.

  Earlier, when one of the nymphs had forgotten herself and sought his lips, he'd grown sickened to remember, but he'd kept fucking. . . .

  He pocketed the necklace, his fingers drawn to Josephine's silk thong as if magnetized. With his other hand, he traced her bite mark, almost healed.

  For all he knew, Nix had dispatched the vampire as a spy. The Morior's weaknesses were few, but they could be exploited by a clever strategist. Just as Orion did to his enemies.

  Rune stroked the silk again. Tonight he'd come harder than he ever had, and yet touching her panties had his balls so blue every footfall pained him. Maybe he should release some of the pressure, so he could think.

  A pair of water nymphs at dawn would do the trick. He headed toward the courtyard. He'd just entered when the nymphs strolled in right behind him.

  Exactly what he needed, a palate cleanser! A blonde and a redhead--ideal for getting past a brunette. He thought the blonde was named Dew, the redhead Brook. They looked well-tumbled.

  What would Josephine look like when well-pleasured? He hadn't seen to her at all, as she'd pointed out. But she moaned lustily enough when feeding from me!

  He pulled his collar over his bite mark. "Did you two rush through your other trysts to meet me?" Of course they had.

  They nodded. The blonde said, "We know tricks to speed things up, you see."

  He'd been forced to learn those same tricks as well. A memory arose of Queen Magh telling him, Please your customers, cur. Or perish.

  Through a wave of revulsion, Rune flashed the nymphs a practiced grin. "May you never use those tricks on me. . . ." He trailed off, his ears twitching. He glanced around, sensing the vampire's nearness. But he would've scented her if she were close.

  Damn it, why couldn't he stop thinking about her? Could her mesmerizing still have a hold of him if she wasn't even here?

  "We've got some info for you," Brook said. "Will you pay us handsomely for it?"

  "Indeed." He was the Morior's secrets master now, and nymphs knew much.

  "It's about the female you were with earlier," Dew said with a shrewd look. "The one we heard rocking your world."

  Brook added, "The whole parish heard it."

  He didn't bother with a denial. "Continue."

  "What do you know about her?" Dew asked.

  "Very little. Tell me."

  "We think"-- Brook lowered her voice--"we think she's a vampire."

  "What gives you that impression?" he asked, feigning ignorance. "She doesn't smell like one."

  "We've seen her in a fight." Brook shivered. "She hissed, she had fangs, and her eyes turned black. It's why we've never tried to seduce her." Few species would harm a nymph, but some vampires craved drinking them dry.

  What if they had seduced Josephine? He pictured her sleeping with them--and, of course, himself--at the same time. Imagining any combination of attractive tarts servicing him and each other would normally be a pleasant musing.

  This one filled him with irritation. He would be plenty for Josephine to handle. Nymphs would just muddy the waters. He pointed out to them, "Black eyes and fangs could mean demon."

  Brook smoothed her hair behind a pointed ear. "But she doesn't have horns or wings."

  Dew nodded. "We've gone our whole lives without seeing a female vampire, and now the streets seem to be teeming with them. There's a Valkyrie halfling one, and a Dacian one, but she's sick with vampire plague--"

  "Do you know where mine resides?" Mine. He almost laughed. That was a word he would never apply to a female.

  "I think somewhere in the city," Dew said. "She comes to the Quarter to pick pockets. She's a klepto. One time I saw her wandering around in the pouring rain, seeming sad. She looked desperate to steal from someone."

  Josephine had said she'd stolen from him because she wanted to know him. Apparently, she knew many. The little wench could make a man feel cheap. If he let her.

  And what in the hells would she have to be sad about? She was a beautiful, powerful immortal.

  Dew smiled slyly. "You want a repeat with your vampire, don't you?"

  A repeat? Josephine's fangs piercing his neck again? While she pressed her taut nipples into his chest and clawed him . . .

  He shrugged, even as his cock jerked in his pants. "I seek her for business only." Once she returned for her necklace, all would be well. Time to cleanse my palate. He swooped Brook into his arms.

  She squealed. "Someone's already raring to go."
/>   They didn't need to know his erection wasn't for them. "When am I not?"

  "Rune, your neck!" She stared wide-eyed at it. "You have . . . she bit you?"

  Dew pawed him. "Let me see!" Her jaw dropped at the bite mark. "That's so filthy. And hot."

  Gods, it was.

  Brook said, "She couldn't drink your baneblood, though, right?"

  "Of course not. Just nipped me with her fangs."

  Dew said, "Still, a bite! She's a gutsy one for piercing your skin. And you're a dirty dog for letting her! We knew you walked on the wilder side, but that's wicked! Can we watch next time?"

  "Maybe." He cast them his crooked grin. "But only if you're very good girls."

  TWELVE

  What. A. Skank.

  Jo gaped from her spot inside the courtyard wall. This guy was the biggest manwhore she'd ever seen.

  And a thief to boot. The bastard had lifted her most prized possession--from her freaking neck--and she'd never noticed! When she'd seen her necklace in his hands, she'd almost attacked. But she couldn't risk a capture, and she didn't know what other stunts he was capable of.

  She would be forced to wait here until he got so caught up with those nymphs that he didn't perceive her own thievery. Wouldn't take long. The females were climbing him like a rock wall.

  They thought it wicked for a vampire to bite a dark fey. They thought her pervy.

  Her stomach clenched when he pulled Brook up into his arms and the woman wrapped her legs around his waist.

  Jo decided then and there to get more sexual experience. If she'd been around the block, this wouldn't sting as much. Those nymphs didn't suffer jealousy. Rune had said "jealousy" like it was a dirty word.

  But Jo was jealous. The connection she'd thought she'd experienced with him had been one-sided.

  What was new?

  He palmed the back of the nymph's head and drew her to his neck, to the unmarked side. "Here, dove, give us a nip. You won't break my skin."

  Jo straightened. What the hell?

  He leaned away, his hair falling to one side, revealing the shaved part of his head and his pointed ear.

  Brook said, "You want to fantasize like I'm the vampire?"

  Dew giggled.

  "Just so," he baldly admitted. "And it'd help if you two quieted down."

  The nerve of this asshole! Did those nymphs have no pride? And why would he be fantasizing about Jo when he'd been so quick to pass her over?

  To contemplate her murder?

  God, this man confused her!