Blood Judgment (Judgment Series)

by Nickie Asher

  “So beautiful,” he said between kisses. He couldn’t get enough of her. He kissed his way along her jaw and below her ear.

  She tilted her head, giving him access. He grew harder as he stroked his tongue over her vein. She gasped and shivered in anticipation, but he didn’t bite.

  Her hand slipped over his chest and stomach and cupped his straining cock through his jeans. He groaned against her skin as she rubbed him, the friction making him hotter.

  He backed her up until her legs hit the mattress and they went down on the bed in a heap.

  Their hands tore at each other’s clothes until they lay naked. He drew her to him, his mouth seeking her lips in a teasing kiss that quickly deepened. He wanted inside her. Being in a houseful of males triggered an overwhelming urge to mark her. She belonged to him in every way now. And he would kill to keep her.

  He should have been shocked, but it seemed natural and right. He didn’t question it.

  She pulled him tighter, molding herself to him. His cock pressed against her soft belly. She took him in her hand and stroked velvet skin over the hard core. His cock jerked in her grip.

  He stroked her shoulder, down her arm, and cupped her breast, caressing the hard nipple between his thumb and index finger. Abandoning her mouth, he blazed a path down to the hollow at her throat and on down to the valley between her breasts. Her clean lilac scent drove him mad with desire.

  While his hand caressed one plump breast, his mouth fastened on the other, suckling on the hard bud until she writhed and threw her leg over his hip.

  He nipped and swirled his tongue around the nipple to take the sting away. He claimed her lips again while he stroked down her smooth skin to the juncture of her thighs and burrowed into her curls.

  Julian’s fingers slid into her folds, finding and caressing her most sensitive spot. Saranna moaned into his mouth. He plunged two fingers inside her heat and her hips pumped, riding his hand with abandon.

  The scent of her arousal burned into him.

  “Julian.” It came out on a moan, but sounded more like a caress.

  “I need you. I need to make you mine.”

  “I am yours. Always,” she panted. Her fingers ran through his hair, pushing it back from his face.

  He stroked her nub with little flicks of his thumb while she rubbed herself on his fingers. She threw her head back and cried out as her hips worked harder. He waited until her shudders stopped and she lay panting. He withdrew and licked her wetness from his fingers. Tasting her with relish. “So good,” he murmured.

  Cat quick, he flipped her onto her stomach. She gasped and her breath quickened. He caught her hips and urged her to lift up off the bed.

  She elevated her rump and he moved behind her, bent, and kissed her back. He stroked his fingers along her delicate skin, delving into her folds.

  She moaned and pushed into his fingers. Her scent, hot and female, filled his senses. He stroked her and eased a finger inside her wet slit. She whimpered and he growled with pleasure.

  He wanted to bury his tongue in her. Wanted her taste in his mouth. Wanted to pleasure her until she screamed his name.

  He dipped his head, shoved his face up against her, and slid his tongue along her in a long, slow sweep. She cried out and shivered, but held still for him.

  Julian grunted and breathed in her scent. His cock was so hard it throbbed, but he wasn’t ready to take her yet. He tongued her clit, stroking over the little nub rhythmically.

  “Jesus, Julian…” She whimpered and pushed into him. She was soaking wet, swollen, flushed with heat. He stroked his tongue along her, lapping up the moisture and making her cry out again.

  Unable to wait any longer, he rose up over her, grasped her hips, and slid his cock between her legs, rubbing against her folds. He pumped his hips.

  “Julian, please… You’re killing me.”

  He rammed inside her, burying himself in her core as she balanced on her hands and knees.

  Gripping her hips, he slid out and slammed back into her. She groaned and rocked her hips. His control evaporated and he thrust hard and fast.

  She rocked against him, whimpering and then sobbing his name. The wet sound of his cock sliding in her channel drove him into a faster, harder pace. He grunted, sinking deep inside her slick passage.

  He worked her nub with his finger, flicking and stroking until she screamed and shattered under him.

  Groaning, he pulled out and she collapsed onto the bed. He caught the scent of her sex and his cock twitched. He turned her over and crawled over her. He pushed into her, joining them face to face. He rocked against her, sliding deep into her core.

  She worked with him, meeting his thrusts. “Harder, Julian,” she cried and sank her nails into his back.

  He hissed, dipped his head, and buried his fangs in her throat while his hips drove his cock into her again and again. He drank in long, greedy draws.

  Her moans spurred him to ride her harder as he took her blood.

  She cried out her pleasure. He growled against her flesh while he fed, a warning to be quiet. Or at least quieter. While he slaked his hunger, his body tightened with the need to release into her.

  He pumped harder, feeling a tingle in his lower back. He worked harder, wanting her to climax again before he lost control.

  VALI WORKED his way down the stairs. Crutches made it difficult, but he was so happy to have his own room he didn’t care how tough the stairs were or how often he had to listen to Julian getting his dick wet.

  The loft was fantastic. More like a large apartment than a true loft, keeping them separate from their kin below.

  Vali loved it.

  He made it to the bottom of the stairs without doing any damage to himself and maneuvered toward the kitchen.

  His cousins sat at the island in the center of the room. Slade pecked at his laptop’s keys and sucked at a glass of amber liquid. Snowball, his pet ferret, lay curled on his leg, fast asleep.

  “Is everyone settled in up there?” Ashton didn’t look up from a magazine.

  “I am. Don’t know about those two.”

  “We could go up and help,” Slade said.

  “I don’t think I’d go up right now.” Vali avoided Slade’s eyes.

  “Why not? Oh.” Slade’s mouth tightened, flattening into a thin line.

  “Julian’s feeding.” Vali shrugged.

  A shrill cry of pleasure floated down from the upstairs bedroom.

  “I don’t think that’s all he’s doing,” Ashton said.

  Slade slammed the laptop shut.

  “Slade,” Ashton said in mild warning.

  “I’m sorry, but he isn’t good enough for her.”

  “Why the hell not?” Ashton planted a heavy fist on the table.

  “He’s a half-breed, for one thing. And he hasn’t been one of us long enough to know what he’s going to be like when he matures.”

  “He was a half-breed. He’s full vampire now and you know it. And he may be a ways from maturity, but he’s going to fit in with us just fine. He’s smart and loyal. The rest will come with experience and training. And be honest, no male she picked would be good enough for you.”

  Saranna’s moans increased in volume and she cried Julian’s name.

  Slade snarled.

  “Get over it,” Ashton growled. “He’s one of us. He’s staying in this house. He’s your sister’s legal mate. And you’re going to deal with it.

  “I’m going out,” Slade snarled and grasped Snowball, disturbing the little animal’s sleep. He slid from the stool and put the ferret down on the floor.

  “Where’re you headed?” Ashton asked.

  “Meeting some of the guys for a workout.”

  “Don’t kill anyone. You’re on edge.”

  “They know how to defend themselves,” Slade said stalking out of the kitchen.

  Vali bet that was the truth. Krav Maga wasn’t for the faint of heart. Slade would dish it out, without a doubt, but he would take ple
nty in return. Vali had watched YouTube videos of Krav Maga demonstrations and he sure as fuck wouldn’t want to tangle with any vampire who knew how to put it into practice.

  Ashton put his glass in the sink. “Since he’s got a hair up his ass, I may as well go see if Llanan wants to do a little fencing and talk shop.”

  Vali grunted. “Have fun.” His cousins’ hobbies were worse than Julian’s tombstone rubbing fascination. At least Julian wouldn’t come home from whatever cemetery he decided to haunt with black eyes or bloodied from a sword wound.

  Sometimes, he thought he might be the sanest one of the lot. And considering the state of his mental faculties, that was one hell of a scary possibility.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  BANKS GLOWERED as Framer entered his office. Framer carried himself like a whipped cur and reminded Banks of a dung beetle—always ready to consume whatever shit someone handed him. But being summoned to his office had a negative effect on most of his underlings.

  “So.” Banks enjoyed Framer’s discomfort as he fidgeted before the large mahogany desk. “Can you explain why two officers have been killed by the same vampire? And why that vampire is still breathing?”

  Framer met his eyes and Banks read mutual dislike. “We haven’t been able to locate his new residence.”

  “I understand his little cohort is alive and well. Any truth to that?”

  “Yes. His legs are paralyzed. Otherwise, he appeared healthy.”

  “But looks can be deceiving. Can’t they? I wonder what’s going on in the little bastard’s brain pathologically.”

  “From the reports we’ve been able to gather, he appeared normal.” Framer glanced away.

  The man was a wuss. Banks didn’t trust anyone who wouldn’t maintain eye contact. “I understand those two are part of a group. Four males and the female.”

  “That’s correct.” Framer’s hands twisted like battling snakes.

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “We’ll find them.” Sweat trickled down Framer’s temples.

  “You’d better. Because if you can’t do your job, I can damn well find someone who can.”

  “I can do my job.” With a show of spirit that surprised Banks, he added, “It’s a lot harder for the men out in the field than someone sitting behind a desk can imagine. We’re dealing with dangerous creatures, not a bunch of paper pushing, chair warmers.”

  Banks met his stare and this time Framer didn’t flinch. “Go do your job. I want that blond fucker captured and executed. I want the juvenile detained for observation and study by the lab. And I want the other two males captured and terminated.”

  “And the female?”

  “I don’t give a flying-shit about the female. She’s nothing but a semen depository for one or more of the males.”

  Framer nodded.

  “And I want one other thing.” He opened a folder and slipped out a photograph. He handed it to Framer. “I want him hunted down. From what I’ve been able to learn, I believe he lives close to Capitol Hill. I want him processed and detained. Assign this to your best Wolf. You will inform me when he is brought in.”

  “Something special about this one?”

  “Nothing you’d find of interest.” Banks leaned back in his chair. “Failure is not acceptable. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.” Framer paled.

  “JULIAN,” ASHTON called from the lower level. “I need to see you.”

  Shit. Julian licked Saranna’s moisture-coated skin. His cock was so hard it hurt and heaven lay before him. “Down in a few,” he called back and stroked his tongue over her again.

  She moaned and shuddered.

  “Now, damn it.” The bellow wasn’t to be ignored.

  “Fuck.”

  “I don’t think so,” Saranna said and giggled.

  He groaned and pressed his forehead down on the bed. Of all the bad timing. He considered ramming inside her and going for broke. Better not. Ignoring Ashton wasn’t a good idea. “I have to go, but we’ll take care of this later.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  He narrowed his eyes. Maybe he should take her and be done with it.

  “Julian!” Ashton sounded agitated.

  “I’m coming.”

  “No you aren’t,” Saranna said and laughed again.

  “Stop. Just stop.” He rolled off the bed, yanked on his clothes and stalked from the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

  He hurried down the stairs and found Ashton in the kitchen.

  “Take a seat,” Ashton said.

  He planted his ass on one of the stools and waited for Ashton to spill whatever had lit a fire under him.

  “First, tomorrow night I want to pay those fucking traders a little visit. Me, you, and Slade. You up for it?”

  “Damn right I am.”

  “Good. Have your ass ready by eleven o’clock.”

  Julian nodded.

  “Aside from that, I’ve received some intelligence you need to know about.” He hesitated. Ashton looked like a man picking his way through a minefield.

  The fine hair on Julian’s arms rose. “Tell me, man. It can’t be that bad.”

  “Yes, it can.” Ashton popped open a Coke and took a long drink. “I have information about the prostitute killer.”

  “Oh, well that’s a good thing.”

  “Yes and no. Julian, my contacts have traced the evidence to Christopher Wilkes.”

  The words sledgehammered Julian between the eyes, and for a moment he stared at Ashton, speechless. “My … my father?” he stammered when he regained his voice.

  “Fraid so.”

  “But… That can’t be right.”

  “Can’t it?”

  Oh, God. His father was a serial killer. What kind of sick motherfucker had sired him and what did it mean to him? What kind of tainted blood ran through his veins?

  “I know this is a shock and I’m sorry to dump it on you. But you had to know.”

  “It’s okay.” It wasn’t okay. It was very not okay. And there wasn’t a thing in the world he could do about it.

  “Look, if you need to talk or anything. I’m here.”

  “Thanks. But I don’t think this is something I can talk through. I need to go out for a while. Clear my head.”

  “I understand. Be careful.”

  “Yeah. Always careful.” He stood and, like a zombie, headed for the door.

  SARANNA LISTENED to a Mozart CD at a low level. She still loved hard rock, but, since Julian listened to nothing but classical music, her appreciation for it had grown.

  He was good for her in a lot of ways. But what did she have to offer him? Julian’s skill with the violin drove home how little she’d accomplished.

  Handsome and talented. A skillful, sexy lover. Julian was everything she needed. And, damn her, she loved him. Exactly what she didn’t want. He already had too many rights over her.

  So far, she hadn’t blurted the truth to him. The desire to be honest, as a mate should, ate at her, but her knowledge that he didn’t love her in return was far stronger.

  He’d become her legal mate to save her from a miserable existence and that was all. He enjoyed sex with her. He cared for her. A lot. But he didn’t love her. Her only hope was that he might come to love her over time.

  Julian was used to being free to do as he wished. She bit her lip. He’d probably dated and slept with women who were cultured and talented like himself. In the human world, she would be no more than a high school-educated young woman who made a living at a menial job.

  How could she ever hope to have him see her as an equal when she wasn’t on his level? He’d attended one of the finest, most respected music schools in the world. He’d won competitions. He was good enough to pursue a soloist career had he not been brought into her world.

  Her eyes burned with the threat of tears. He would never love her because she wasn’t worthy of him.

  And he knew it.

  Chapter Thi
rty-five

  THE FOLLOWING night, as Julian climbed out of Ashton’s car, he was still reeling from the shock of learning about his father.

  Ashton took a small wooden box from the trunk and tucked it under his arm. His steel gaze went from Julian to Slade. “I don’t want any shit between you two tonight. Got it?”

  “Yes,” Slade growled.

  Julian nodded. He wasn’t about to let Slade sidetrack him into a fight. This was a chance for him to prove himself worthy and Slade wasn’t going to derail it. Knowing where he came from made proving himself more important than ever.

  “Okay,” Ashton said. “Let’s go.”

  They slipped through the shadows until they stood outside the trader’s holding facility.

  Julian peeked through the small window into the basement. Four men were engrossed in a card game and a single vampire lay in a cage. Tommy wasn’t there.

  Ashton set the box outside the door and pulled his weapon. Slade and Julian armed themselves and waited for Ashton to give the signal.

  Ashton shoved the door open. They barreled through the opening and dove for cover.

  The men leapt from the table, drawing weapons as they scrambled for something to hide behind.

  Shots rang out, deafening in the small concrete space. Julian and Slade crouched side by side behind a workbench and Ashton hunkered behind a partial block wall near the door.

  A trader bobbed up and took a shot. Another gabbled in a panicked voice, presumably calling reinforcements.

  Julian’s keen hearing picked up the telltale brush of someone snaking toward him. He rose up and squeezed the trigger in the same instant his assailant fired. The dart grazed his upper arm, leaving a burning trail. He dropped back behind his hiding place and wiped away the blood.

  His opponent hadn’t fared as well. The man sprawled face down in a spreading puddle of blood.

  Julian sniffed and their greatest liability landed a Mike Tyson knockout to his gut. Like it or not, they were slaves to the weakness of craving blood.

  “Shit,” Slade said. “Let me see your arm.”