Captiva Captive

by Scott, Talyn

  “Neither had I.”

  “Then I will put together a…traveling party. And inform the Coven Master that we will be arriving -”

  “No Coven Master will hear of this,” Gianni interrupted as he stood up and straightened his clothes.

  “Okay.”

  “Let me guess,” Gianni seethed. “Her brother, Anthony, was stupid enough to go back to North America.”

  “You are correct, sire.” Salk rose nervously.

  “He is a stupid human,” he said exasperatedly. “Make arrangements. I’ll get through all my pertinent meetings and have the rest of my schedule cleared.”

  Salk rubbed the newly forming lump on the back of his head. “Of course, I’ll inform your pilot of our travel plans.” Vampires could mist, but traveling overseas ruthlessly drained them, necessitating massive amounts of blood to recoup. With declining Donors in mind, the Dynasty Vampyrs used planes as an unspoken rule.

  “You will call one of those mortal travel agents and book us under American names. Understand that you will tell no one.”

  “No one will know where we’re going…not even security? They normally escort you. And there’s the matter of your feeding.” He held both hands out in a plea. “You’ll need a Donor to travel with you.”

  Gianni was more determined than ever. “Fine. Pick out a Donor,” he said irritably, “male or female. Ensure he or she has padded security. I haven’t the time to protect property and neither do you. Our focus is on the end game: Blythe Giarrusso.”

  “An excellent plan, sire.” However, Salk’s expression said otherwise.

  “I thought so, now leave.”

  Gianni misted to the terrace and stared out over acres of gardens and fields. Every moment he spent with Blythe etched his memory. Every inch of her skin, he’d made love to. Thoroughly. How could he tell his hunter, he fell in love with his Donor?

  He’d never forget the first time he saw her, not just because he was an immortal with a limitless mind, but due to the fact that she was simply incredible:

  Glasses clanked and tinkled alongside a softly playing piano as fireworks lit up the night. While others gazed overhead at gunpowder concoctions, dancing underneath rainbow colors glittering across the sky. Gianni stared straight ahead. Before him was a pure vision. And he wanted her badly. She had her hand curled around another man’s sleeve, laughing at something the human said, and jealousy shot through Gianni’s body like a cannon.

  The breeze picked up, carelessly tossing her hair around, black silk faceted with strands of naturally copper highlights. Obviously, it wasn’t sprayed into place and anchored like the other fashionistas around him. He wanted to wrap it around his wrist, hold her head back, and plunge his tongue so far down her throat that she would feel it with those coral painted toes. The human hooked a stray lock behind her ear and Gianni wanted nothing more than to break his hand.

  “Are the new Donors to your liking, sire?” Salk asked proudly.

  Without a word, Gianni lifted his chin toward the ethereal vision.

  “Ah,” he said, “she is…unrehearsed in our ways. Her brother escorts her.”

  Then he wouldn’t have to die, Gianni thought. “She is completely new to the Dynasty?”

  “Yes.”

  “Her brother?”

  “Not a Donor. But wants compensation, a lucrative settlement and he will walk away from her.”

  “He’ll walk away if I tell him to.”

  “Yes, but he has powerful connections I haven’t yet placed. I’d rather we not dip our toes in those murky waters. Besides, several other royal houses have placed competitive bids. She’ll find generous accommodations wherever she goes.”

  The clock chimed midnight, and a luscious scent wafted in right as she strolled by in a flesh-colored dress that hugged every curve on her plush frame. Gianni couldn’t stop his body’s reaction, and he didn’t want to, not when he had gone so long without anticipating a singular woman’s touch. He wanted to push his fingertips in those hips and sink deeply.

  “I outrank all here.”

  “Yes.”

  “She goes with me. I don’t care who her brother is involved with, pay him whatever he wants.”

  “Consider it done.”

  An hour later, they stepped onto the sidewalk. Anthony kissed his sister goodbye and said he would see her tomorrow. That wouldn’t happen. Anthony’s new lady, conveniently found by Salk, pulled him away to his car.

  Gianni’s limousine was waiting at the curb. He opened the door for Blythe instead of allowing his driver to do so, since he didn’t want any other male around her.

  I could lock you away forever; he thought.

  Other females would be on him before he closed the door, but not her. She sat across the bench with her plush body severely pressed against the far side. He bit back a chuckle. How many times had he needed some breathing room with aggressive females? Longing to be the predator he was, seducing what he desired instead of being pursued. Countless. Now that he desperately craved what was in front of him, he didn’t want to waste time on seduction.

  Hunger nearly made him mindless.

  Not just for her sweet-scented blood, that was a given, Gianni was hungry for her. He couldn't remember a single time in his life that he felt this way. He took a breath, trying to relax around Blythe, uncoil his body’s tension. Hoping she might relax, too. But when he caught another whiff of her blood, he thought of nothing more than sinking into her in every way.

  “Thanks for the ride home.”

  “You don’t look very grateful.” He leaned back. “In fact, you seem angry.”

  “I’m not trying to be rude.” She looked out the window. “My brother’s never asked anyone to drive me home.

  The limo was moving, and he reached out for her hand. “Sit with me, please. Let’s just talk.”

  “I can hear from over here.” She leaned her forehead against the glass.

  “Your brother wouldn’t leave you in the care of a marauder.”

  Her eyes flashed. “I’m not worried about marauding.”

  “Ah, men are animals around you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Beauty can be a curse, and I understand your vulnerability entirely.” He moved closer, scooting down the leather bench. “I swear I would never hurt you. And no other man will ever be an animal around you again.”

  When she stared at him, tingling warmth wrapped his soul with something unfamiliar. A moment or possibly one of those epiphanies he’d heard about. Blythe Giarrusso was going to change his life. That went both ways. What he was going to do to hers, well, she would have no other choice but to accept it.

  “I no longer believe in promises. Actions speak for themselves.” She shook her beautiful ebony curls. “Words are meaningless, and I don’t know you.” She adjusted her dress. “You don’t know me.”

  Let’s change that. Come.” He held out his hand again, and she hesitantly took it. Her fingers were stiff and cold. “You’re freezing.” His jacket was off in an instant, wrapping her with his heated scent.

  “Thanks.”

  He didn’t mince words or waste time, not when it came to what he wanted. “I claim you, Blythe Giarrusso.”

  “What?”

  Gianni’s lips parted, and she saw his fangs. He wasted no time putting his teeth on her neck, scraping her soft skin, breaking it here and there while lightly introducing his drug of choice: him.

  All Donors were sensitive to Dynasty Vampyr’s endorphins, and he wanted to take it as easy as possible. He wanted her mindless with him, not his bodily chemicals.

  Then he couldn’t stop kissing her, sweeping his lips over her face, her throat, and her tiny ears, before he pushed his tongue deep inside her mouth. Scant time passed before she finally stopped struggling.

  Her lovely body quickly heated, melting to liquid under his masterful hands. He pulled back, gazing into her incredible eyes as they took on the glimmer of rich cognac. “That’s it, Pet.” He sent many mental
directives her way. “Take nice slow breaths.” He was gentling her while his fingers traced every feature, setting them to his eternal memory.

  Gianni wound Blythe’s arms around his neck, wanting her to hold him on her own accord, but understood patience was in order. Patience would bring her to him without his endorphins and coercion…one day, but not today. And he couldn’t wait another minute. As he pushed her back on the seat, he split her thighs open with his weight, and pressed his chest against her lush breasts.

  She was built for him. All ripe curves, flowing raven hair, luscious lips, and inviting sensuality. He outlined her throat with his fingertips. “I’m going to bite you tonight, Pet. Gently. You’ll enjoy this communal. I promise.”

  She moaned, twisting underneath him, and he was only gliding across her cunnus while clothed. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to take her fully. But he wouldn’t have to try, because he couldn’t wait until they got home.

  After more kisses and drugging scrapes of teeth, he kissed her again while taking his hand to the bottom of her skirt. As he rolled it around her hips, he tried not to think about why it was wrong to take her in this way. He’d done it too many times to count – to others. Why was she so different?

  Then he forgot his inner turmoil.

  With his teeth, he lowered her bodice and stared in under fascination as the cool air hit her wide nipples, tightening them to stiff peaks. She brought her hands up to his face, and he shook his head no. “Pluck them, beautiful. Show me how hard you can squeeze them for me.” Under his mental command, she went to work immediately. Pulling and stretching her lovely mounds, they jiggled with every rough bump the tires rolled over, and he was captivated at the sight of her, nearly coming in his trousers.

  When had that ever happened?

  He licked her hands as she continued to stimulate her nipples, running his tongue between each finger while instructing her, encouraging her. “Are you wet, beautiful?” He knew she was. He could smell her. And it was driving him fucking crazy.

  He ripped her panties apart, grabbed her hips, and brought his face to her swollen lips. Gianni dipped his head and ran one smooth circle around her distended nub before sucking her flesh into his mouth. She bucked under him, her breath rushing out on a desperate plea.

  He groaned an answer, vibrating against her soaked folds as he repeatedly thrust his skilled tongue inside, saturating his mouth with the flavor solely held by Blythe Giarrusso. Her sex was perfect, created just for him. Back and forth, she thrashed, unconsciously rubbing her scent on his face.

  And he couldn’t regret.

  When he pulled out his heavy cock and drove inside her for the first time. “Ah, baby…fuck…yes.” He gave her no time to adjust. He was rabid. An animal without any conscious thought for his prey. “Open your legs wider for me.” Slam. Slam. Slam. Flesh smacked flesh, music to his ears, strumming his body. Heavy balls ground into her plush ass, and he was finally home. “You feel like hot silk sliding over my cock. So tight and wet for me, so damned good,” he moaned through the words.

  Gianni was lost…so mindless, sliding into slippery slopes of soft, aroused skin choking his cock, tugging him up to the opening of her cervix while begging him to empty inside her. “Yes, I’ll give you what you need. Always. Do you hear me? Always.”

  That’s when she screamed someone’s name.

  Not his.

  “Who?” His one-worded question was rough, unforgiving. Yes, they had just met. Nevertheless, she wasn’t supposed to want another while she was open and drenched for him. Gianni picked up the pace, pushing his pelvis against her clitoris on the down stroke, making her scream until her throat was ravaged, and she whimpered instead. “You will submit only to me.” He could scarcely breathe before his body discharged itself fiercely, pushing inside of her and spraying her walls. Gianni felt so good he shook violently, at no time had he felt a connection such as this.

  The only thing that could make him feel better, if it were possible, would be to drink her. He stayed inside, still moving, and brought his thumbs under her chin. After tilting her head up and stretching her long bronzed throat, he delivered a bite that brought them both to another shuddering ecstasy. He swallowed until he thought he couldn’t stop. Yet, he did.

  Somehow.

  Blythe’s heavy-lidded eyes stared up at him in disbelief. Her irises had grown dark with exhaustion, and they were glaring daggers through all the endorphins and mental play. She still had some coherency, understood what he had done.

  “Hmmm, you’re strength is fascinating.” He gripped her neck and plundered her mouth with a demanding kiss before continuing. “Sorry to say, I am stronger.” Gianni tugged her full bottom lip with his left fang. “You called out another’s name while I was buried in your slick passion.” He shook his head sadly. “You are forgiven for this only once. My name is Gianni.” He penetrated her mind with his most powerful coercion. “Say my name.”

  “Gianni.”

  “Your life has changed.” He slowly withdrew from her body. “My rules apply to you.” He reassembled her clothes and fastened his pants. “Your life is no longer yours.” After flipping open the car door, he waved grandly at the ancient and stately mansion before her. “I own you.”

  “And I still do,” Gianni snarled, clenching his fists at his sides. “I know you are alive, Blythe. I feel it, and I will bring you home. For good.”

  Chapter 8

  The following afternoon, Sixten walked the streets of downtown Fort Myers. Thinking about how much he was going to enjoy killing Ryan, yet how much Blythe would hate him if he went through with it. Then, the aromatic scent of prey drifted through minutes before three, clean healthy females walked the opposite side of the street. Sixten inhaled aggressively, scenting deliciously fresh blood. Ah, they’re so close to me. His fangs lengthened. Deadly and dripping wet, they readied to plunge. I need to feed more often. Of course, he’d tossed up his dinner the night that he scented his exquisite Blythe, and he hadn’t bothered to feed after that. A problem he was going to rectify shortly.

  He shifted, transforming himself into an inky shadow that mixed against a chocolate-hewed stucco wall. After drifting over a darkened side street ignored by the sun, he landed inches behind his targets and reformed himself. His voice greeted them, richly melodic and heavy with coercion, “Hello, ladies. I would have a word with you. Now.”

  As they turned to face him, batting their thickly blackened lashes, the trio nervously giggled. Expected, it was a typical response to his physical appearance. Mortals and immortals alike took notice, desired him all his life, though he only desired a dark-haired angel with smoky, cognac eyes and a killer body reminiscent of a fifties calendar girl. His close-lipped smile charmed the women into a hidden alleyway, effectively beckoning his enamored prey.

  Sensing no others around, he struck fast, maybe a little too hard on the first vein, but starvation could do that to a vampire. One, two, and three, he quickly stepped back, listened to their hearts and knew they would be fine. With great restraint, he figured he took far less than a pint from each.

  “You will go to that café and eat.” He pointed across the street. “No alcohol, rest at a table and talk for an hour before driving home.” Carefully planted, his powerful compulsion demanded compliance from each of their fog-filled minds. Pulling out a significant bill roll, he slid cash in their awaiting handbags - more than enough to pay for groceries a month or even longer. “Shoo, run along.”

  After ensuring they safely crossed the quiet street, he brought out a linen handkerchief and wiped the telltale liquid from his strangely conscience-stricken mouth. Why am I paying for food? Why should I feel guilt? Retracting his fangs, some strength returned as the warm blood mercifully traveled throughout his body. Shaking his head in displeasure, he decided that they were terrible, all three. Too coppery, too pungent, exceptionally healthy but not what he especially wanted. The third had suffocated him with her perfume, and he figured he’d have to burn
his suit. And that just pissed him off considering how fine he looked in it. He took in a deep breath thinking she must bathe in the shit, and now Sixten smelled as if he did as well.

  “All finished?”

  “Certainly,” Sixten answered, as his half-brother shifted behind him. Yes, he was shocked as hell to see Rave after all these years, but he refused to show it. “I can still smell you, whether you’re disguised or not, so will the others.” Rave looked like a college-aged intern, carrying a courier’s bag an actual intern would transport between numerous downtown law offices and the centrally located courthouse.

  “Unless the others are very old and exceptionally close, I’ve nothing to worry about.” Rave was actually grinning, the freak. “Not that I would worry one bit, even if they were hovering right behind me.”

  “You should. As usual, you’re wanted, brother.” Sixten glared at him furiously, pinpointing him with his ice-green eyes. “Don’t even think of bringing me down with you.”

  “I haven’t seen you in a while,” Rave sighed, tightening his hand on the strap of his leather satchel. “Can’t we visit without proliferating suspicion?”

  Suspicion? Sixten was way past suspicion, and a private chat with his shifter brother was long overdue. He just wasn’t in the mood for it right now.

  Sixten paused and studied the women he used. One teetered on her heels before she made it inside the café, so her friend steadied her by the elbow.

  Rave cocked his head and asked, “Were you that hungry?”

  “Yep,” he snapped, placing both hands in his pockets while striding forward on the sidewalk.

  “Forget it; the wobbly one doesn’t look like she eats much anyway.” He laughed while staring at her legs. “Her ankles are too weak for her skyscraper heels, though they would look sexy wrapped around my neck.”

  Sixten only addressed part of that statement, “We both know I weakened her, but I agree. Clearly, she doesn’t eat enough. And one of them ruined my suit with loud perfume.”

  “Testy for someone who just feed,” Rave said, before stepping in front of Sixten. “Hmmm, for once in your existence, did someone turn away your perfection?” Rave laughed with wicked intent. “I’ve got it. We will compel her to gain fifty pounds or so. Then, she won’t be uppity when she’s forced to wear sweats on a permanent basis and must retire her trendy, designer labels.”