by Gena D. Lutz
She focused on his chin, amazed by how his words made her feel special, strong, and capable. Her eyes flashed up to his, and she smiled.
“Somebody needed to put his oversized ego in check.”
Smiling back, he said, “Indeed, they did.”
Bane pulled open the glass door, and a bell chimed out to announce their arrival. The smell of ink and incense wafted across Sonnet’s face. The store was bright, with chandeliers and red silk tapestries draped throughout the space. Large satin pillows in jeweled colors were bunched up to make three sitting areas. The décor reminded Sonnet of a place where a sheik would lodge his harem.
Moving casually, they entered the shop. A petite mocha-skinned goddess with long black hair, which gleamed more regal than the silk hanging from the ceiling, smiled at both of them as they approached her. The woman’s eyes were lavender, her features perfectly symmetrical.
“Good evenin’, Bane,” she said in a seductive tone. “It’s been ages.”
“Evening, Brielle.”
Sonnet stood with her hands knotted together in front of her. She was more than a little intimated by Brielle’s beauty, and not so surprisingly, somewhat jealous of her familiarity with Bane, even though she had no right to be.
Bane reached a hand to settle on the small of Sonnet’s back, and her heart leapt.
“This is Sonnet Vale. I would consider it a great kindness if you could help her by answering a few questions.”
Brielle’s eyebrows rose, making her lavender eyes larger and even more breathtaking to behold. She stood straighter, nose scenting the air, the gesture making it apparent that Sonnet was in the presence of yet another werewolf. And by the way her predatory eyes zeroed in on Sonnet, Brielle knew what kind of supernatural being Sonnet was, as well.
“You’re askin’ me to help a hunter? Are you out of your mind, man? Remy would throw me in prison for a hundred years, or worse, if I did somethin’ that foolish. No. I like you, Bane, but I’m not suicidal. You’re askin’ too much.”
Sonnet nervously twirled the ring on her finger. Brielle noticed the gesture, and her mouth dropped open when she caught sight of Bane’s ring.
“You’ve claimed her?” Her head shook in small tense jerks. “You dumbass vampire.”
“I have. Remy is aware of it, and we also have his blessing to talk to you about a tattoo you designed for Donovan. Rest assured, you are in no danger.”
Confusion played across her face as she considered his words.
“All right, then. I’ll help you. But you better not be bullshittin’ me about Remy knowin’ about this.”
She reached over and flipped a switch. Half the lights in the room went out, along with the open sign in the window. In high-heeled black boots that clicked against the hardwood floor, she walked out from behind the counter.
“Let’s go in back. That’s where I keep all the copies of my drawin’s.”
They made their way down a long hallway, weaving through more silk that impeded their view. As the cool drapery brushed across her skin, Sonnet’s thoughts trailed back to everything she’d learned that night.
A part of her was relieved to find out about the existence of other supernatural beings, but another part of her, a piece that felt alive and invigorated by the proximity of these creatures, burned and raged to be released. It was that part that had her worried, a knowledge that was buried in the dark recesses of her mind, telling her what she already knew—that she was capable of becoming what everyone she met seemed to fear most... the hunter.
Brielle’s boots stopped clicking, and Sonnet heard a small scrape of a door opening.
“You wanted to see the mock-up tracin’s of the work I did for Donny, right?”
Sonnet entered the room to see that Brielle already had a wooden curio cabinet open and was shuffling through a file filled with sketches. Bane walked up behind the she-wolf.
“We are interested in one tat in particular. A bull’s eye you drew across the top half of his chest.”
Her mouth widened into an open smile as she nodded in recognition.
“Oh, yeah. I remember that one. I told him he was an idiot for wantin’ to map out one of his species’ weak spots. But you know Donny. He’s one cocky bastard.” She pulled out a piece of thin see-through paper and shut the cabinet door. “Here it is.”
Sonnet smiled, pleased at what Brielle held up for her to see. The picture was the perfect match to the tattoo that was inked across Donovan’s chest, the same bull’s eye that was crudely drawn on the sketch provided to her by Kelly’s father.
“Have you ever used this design on anyone else?” Sonnet asked.
“No. Only Donny.”
After hearing that no one else wore that specific tat, Sonnet believed she had the proof she needed to move forward. Exactly what she was going to do with said proof, she didn’t know, but she had a feeling that the semantics didn’t matter.
“Thank you, Brielle. You’ve been real helpful.”
“If it’s all the same, I’d like to be more friendly with you. So please, call me Bree.”
Bane’s eyes flashed shock as he looked from one, to the other. He smiled.
“That was unexpected.”
Lavender eyes gave Sonnet an assessing look.
“I know who to crawl my ass into bed with... and when.” Brielle walked across the room and opened the door, and with a slow wink, she said, “You somehow tucked both Bane and Remy into your blankets. So Sonnet, fair warnin’! I like to spoon.”
Chapter Seventeen
As Sonnet walked across the street, heading back to Club Nightshade, she thought about what action to take next. She could tell that Bane’s energy was waning from lack of blood and rest, and she didn’t want to seem uncaring or ungrateful by pushing him to go any further.
The good thing was that she knew she had her bad guy, and he was tucked away for her to question later. But she couldn’t help thinking of Kelly. Was she dead, lying in a heap of exsanguinated bodies somewhere? Maybe in a designated place there in the city, where vampires tossed humans away like empty, crumpled candy bar wrappers after they’d satisfied their hunger?
An ill feeling swept through her. No, she couldn’t wait. She had to speak with Donovan, because if something happened to the poor girl because of her hesitation, Sonnet would never be able to live with herself.
Bane brought his hand up and opened the door. Sonnet smiled; she liked that he always made sure to do that for her.
“Should I get us a room?” he asked.
Sonnet walked by. It was time to tell him her plan.
“I’d like to talk to Donovan first. I know that with the time frame, Kelly is probably dead. But just in case, I think we should move on this now.”
Bane let the door swing shut on its own and then fell into step with her.
“I think you’re right.”
He put up no argument, which surprised her.
“Do you know where Remy’s keepin’ him?”
“He’ll be in the basement. We’ll go now.”
“Vampires in the basement. Sounds fun.”
***
When they got down there, Sonnet took inventory of her surroundings. The space matched the upstairs, with its color scheme of blood-red walls and black rugs. Silver and crystal decorations were placed on high shelves, and paintings hung across much of the space not taken up by the shelving on the walls. The only difference was the furnishings. Tall, decorative partitions separated several rows of caskets. Each was a different style, color, and size.
Sonnet’s internal instincts blared like a three-alarm fire warning, triggered by the presence of several vampires. She wasn’t sure why fate kept landing her in those situations, but there she was, in a room full of blood-sucking monsters. Practically mindless, she clenched her fists at her sides. Her back hunched, and as she slinked forward, her hand moved behind her to grip the stake at her back.
She felt a firm hand come down over hers before she had a chance to
pull her weapon.
“Little fox, no.”
She frowned at the familiar voice, a soothing sound that pulled her out from under a murderous trance.
“What happened?”
“Your control is slipping. You need more of my blood.”
Despite his obvious exhaustion, Bane offered up his wrist, pale skin dripping with blood, the flesh already ripped wide open.
“Drink.”
In such a short time, Sonnet felt a bond drawing her to Bane. They’d already experienced so much together, and through it all, his kindness towards her never wavered. She grabbed hold of his wrist and moved in, but before her mouth dropped to his wound, her stare latched onto his. He looked down at her, his eyes a sheet of warmed ice.
With pure pleasure, he watched her tongue snake out as she delivered long, lingering swipes across the blood he offered up to her so freely. He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. With her full mouth, she suckled down the rich sweet taste of him in larger gulps.
She closed her eyes and reared back her head, languishing in the blood running through her, working its magic, replacing the cold hard killer instincts with a sanity that made her think more clearly. And with that gift of clarity, she realized what she truly yearned for. It wasn’t the death and utter annihilation of the monsters tucked away, in slumber, inside their caskets—not yet. What she craved was Bane. She already had his blood inside her, and she desired his hot hard flesh.
Between feverish breaths, she pleaded, “Take me.”
Deep emotion flashed in Bane’s eyes at her request, soon followed by a heat that built to a peak that could not be contained.
“As you wish.”
His hand found her belt without looking, and after a quick fumble and a tug, he stripped her of it. Her boots were the next item to go, and then her jeans disappeared in a flash of movement impossible to catch with the naked eye. His body left her, and then she felt a moment of weightlessness as she sailed through the air, to land softly across a nearby casket, her naked belly pressing against its cold lacquered mahogany lid.
And then she felt him again. It wasn’t a momentary whisper before another one of his sightless movements. He slid behind her, reaching between her legs, spreading them open. She twisted the top half of her body just enough to wrap an arm around the back of his head. She threaded her fingers in his hair, pulling him down by it to nestle his chin and mouth at the sensitive crevice of her shoulder and neck. His body stiffened as he paused.
“The temptation to taste you is far too great.”
His words were almost as strained as his body. He began to move away, but Sonnet wasn’t having any of that nonsense. She held him to her neck even tighter.
“I’m okay with it. Sink your fangs into me,” she said in a whisper.
His body relaxed before it pressed forward, pinning her between him and the coffin.
“I will deny you nothing,” he said as he bent down and licked the twin scars at her neck. “I will make these marks my own, erasing any sign of the foul creature who dared to harm you.”
Her body shivered, and she released the grip she had on his hair to lean her head back, exposing more of her throat. His words floated across her soul so intimately that she believed he truly could erase the torment and fear that had haunted her every waking moment since the night she was attacked.
Her lips trembled, eyes closed tighter. The waiting was torture, and she savored every last second of it. That was what she wanted. He was exactly what she needed. She felt him shift behind her, his body as hardened as steel, long and hot.
“Do it, Bane. Please... now.”
His tongue touched her skin, and then his lips pressed down. His mouth opened to reveal a set of sharp fangs that pushed, and then slid effortlessly, into her skin. As he suckled her flesh, his hand inched down her stomach, traveling across her pelvic area, to reach the valley between her legs. With two playful fingers, he slipped deep inside of her sex, his fingers and his fangs dipping into her, both at once.
She jerked in response, the arousal building to a maddening pitch, and then all too soon, the tug and flutter at her neck stopped. Bereft of the loss of his mouth against her skin, she turned and met his brilliant eyes. A flush of sweat shone across his forehead, his muscles straining, and he licked her blood from his lips as he intensified the movement of his fingers, pumping in and out of her, focusing friction on just the right spot.
“My God... don’t stop.”
He watched the evidence of her pleasure through low lids and almost lost it. She was an exquisite creature, even more beautiful in the midst of intense ecstasy.
He continued to screw her with his fingers as he shifted forward, moving Sonnet’s body to lie across the casket. With one leg, he nudged hers open wider and then dropped to his knees. Bane heard a strangled moan as he replaced his fingers with his mouth, expertly keeping the pace while he stroked her swollen clit, over and over again, with his tongue. The scent of her arousal flooded his senses, his erection growing so hard that it became painful.
The moment he felt her sex clench to the brink of climax around his tongue, he rose to stand behind her, eagerly positioning the swollen head of his penis at her glistening wet entrance. Sonnet reached behind her and grabbed it, helping to guide him inside her.
As he broke the barrier, his fangs dropped, and he hissed, pumping in and out of her slick chasm. She angled herself so she could watch him. Bane’s straining arms, his hips moving, pumping, made her growl out a groan. He was remarkably gorgeous and strong, with his manhood engorged with lust—a primal male.
He leaned down and ran his tongue across her shoulder, and then his fangs teased her neck. She whimpered, her body clenching around his cock like a fist. Impassioned desire rode her as hard as Bane was, and soon, she lost all semblance of control, and she climaxed.
He grabbed onto her hips and picked up his pounding rhythm, milking her for all she was worth. Her legs quivered under the waves of pleasure that intensified with each stroke. His head fell forward, landing on her back after one more powerful stroke. His hips locked and held with him seated deep inside, filling her up.
Chapter Eighteen
Bane scooped up Sonnet’s sated body from off the casket, cradling her limp form within the safety of his arms. He gazed down into her angelic face. It glowed with the erotic release he’d just provided her, which made him feel like a man who could service his woman well and properly.
Sonnet wiggled and stretched in his arms, turning her chin into his chest to snuggle up there. If he let her, he knew that she could easily fall asleep like that, but he also knew how important it was for her to talk to Donny before what she believed would be too late. He pressed his nose into her neck and shook his head so that it would tickle her.
“Wake up, little fox. There is work still left to do.”
Smacking her lips, which were dry from losing a lot of her bodily fluids, she groaned, saying, “Just let me sleep for a few minutes.”
Soft clicking noises echoed all around the room, and Bane’s face went cold. His eyes shot around the area of the floor, until he spotted Sonnet’s clothes in a pile next to the coffin he’d just made love to her on. Zipping over to them at full speed, he snatched them up, with Sonnet still tucked safely in his arms. In the next second, he had them both dressed and hidden from sight, behind a large black and white marble pillar.
Sonnet yawned, stretching her arms towards the ceiling.
“What’s goin’ on?”
The nagging feeling of impending doom hit her like a battering ram, and her arms dropped to her side.
Eyes widening, she hissed, “Mother fucker. They’re herdin’.”
Her temper burned red hot. She grabbed at the gun strung around her neck, not pondering over how it, or her clothes, got back onto her body—she was getting pretty used to Bane’s breakneck speed. She yanked and broke the plastic gun free.
“Should I be worried?” she asked.
R
eaching behind her to make sure her back-up weapon, the silver-tipped stake, was secured in its respective spot, she was relieved to find that it was.
Bane spun around, and Sonnet gasped when she stole a quick look over her shoulder. Donovan had moved up behind them, escaping her notice. She’d been too focused on the dozen or so vampires slinking towards them, most with menacing glares, and all of them looking ravaged by hunger.
“D’you think I’d lay down for your bitch so easy?” Donovan asked.
Bane stiffened at the insult. The muscles in his arms coiled and rolled as he opened his stance, readying his balance to strike if needed or provoked.
“Call off your nest. Or you will regret it.”
Sonnet’s heart pounded. She had to trust that Bane had the situation with Donovan handled, because she couldn’t afford to take her eyes off the advancing threat, armed with eager fangs and incredible strength and speed. She had to fight the urge to throw herself into the fray, her natural instincts wanting to rip each one of their hearts out with her bare hands. One of the vampires, a woman with red hair and a pale thin face, focused her aqua gaze on the yellow plastic gun in Sonnet’s hand.
She laughed; it was a thick sound, pushed out from within her belly. She pointed a mocking finger at Sonnet.
“Look, guys. The hunter brought a toy to a fang fight.”
Over the building laughter of the others, and before the mean-girl bitch could dive out of the way, Sonnet pulled the trigger. Water streamed out in a straight line, splashing the one who’d tormented her in the face. Her skin crackled and popped on contact, and a horrific shriek retched from her throat. Sonnet took aim at another one of the vampires, pulling the trigger on him without hesitation. There was another sound of sizzling flesh, and then a scream, followed by him tumbling to his knees.
Sonnet yelled over the wailing from the burning misery of the vampires, “Move another inch, and I’ll empty this holy water on all of you, damn leaches!”
The injured one’s cries cut off, and they scrambled backwards at her threat, fleeing like cockroaches, to hide in the shadows. Awareness of imminent pain surged fear across the faces of each remaining monster, and in a flash, the entire group, also known as ‘Donovan’s back-up,’ zipped from the room.