Blood Judgment (Judgment Series)

by Nickie Asher

  “I’m not so sure. And besides, do you want your brother in the middle of our business?”

  “Damn you. You aren’t going to get away with this.”

  “Get away with what? Saving you from yourself?” He was still astride her.

  She shifted against him, eyes glittering, and pressed upward against his balls. Not because she wanted him though, he knew better. She was playing a game called payback. Excitement ran through him even though he knew what she was doing.

  She licked her lips and raised her pelvis. The scent of anger thinned and evaporated. Her natural scent drifted to him. She rubbed against him with maddening, slow motions. Her breathing quickened.

  He quirked an eyebrow.

  She gazed into his eyes and everything realigned.

  His efforts to show her he wouldn’t tolerate her endangering herself had turned into sex play. He bent and pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. The combined fragrance of lilacs and desire flooded his senses.

  His belly tightened. He was going to have her. Panting against her mouth, his kiss became more aggressive.

  Without breaking the kiss, Julian grasped her blouse and ripped it open, freeing bare breasts. She whimpered and nipped his lower lip, drawing blood. A hot sweep of her tongue cleaned it off.

  She pushed up into him and he breathed in her heady scent of arousal. His cock pushed at his jeans and the need to take her and fully dominate her overwhelmed him.

  He kissed his way along her jaw and down to her neck. Her breath caught. He licked then nicked her skin, only to soothe it with his tongue. She was so beautiful. She was his everything. She was the single most important thing in his life.

  With a teasing touch, his hand strayed to her breast and stroked her warm skin. His thumb brushed over her taut nipple. She kicked her head back and moaned. Traveling south, he traced over her skin until he reached her skirt.

  He forayed lower, then upward under the short garment. She wiggled about, pushing off her shoes. His fingers hooked her panties and slipped them down and off her silky legs.

  “Julian.” She said his name like a caress.

  Seeking the little bud hidden within, he eased his hand between her legs and stroked her folds. A gasp of pleasure was his reward. She bent her legs, feet flat on the mattress, giving him access. He rubbed insistently until she panted and pushed against his hand.

  He slid his middle finger deep inside her wet heat and pumped. He added another finger. Moaning, she bucked her hips, riding him until she stiffened. She leaned into him with a groan as her walls contracted around his fingers in a pulsing rhythm.

  When she quieted, he slipped from her and cleaned his fingers with long, slow sweeps of his tongue, enjoying her clean, honeyed taste. Leaning in, he kissed her and nipped at her lip, seeking entrance. She opened and he slid his tongue in, rubbing along hers, letter her taste herself.

  Momentarily stopping his assault on her mouth, he moved off her, toed off his shoes and shed his jeans. Heart pounding with excitement, he crawled back over her. Moving in tight, he pressed his rock-hard length against her lower belly. She spread her legs wider and her hot scent entranced him.

  He grasped his cock and positioned himself at her opening, easing into her one tantalizing inch at a time until he lodged deep inside her core. She wrapped her legs around him, holding tight. Julian pulled back, then thrust into her with a powerful stroke.

  She kissed him, devouring his lips as he rocked against her. He licked at her lower lip until she opened. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth and stroked over hers, imitating the action between her legs.

  He broke the kiss, bared his teeth, and pumped into her hard and fast, determined to make her come before he lost control. The grip and rub of her tight channel pushed him into his own need for release. She cried out, head thrown back, writhing under him.

  He sank his fangs into her throat. He didn’t drink though, just held her with his teeth in a display of male dominance. She moaned and strained against the chains. He growled and she pulled harder and rocked her hips against him, urging him on.

  He released her throat, licked over the bite, and kissed her. He slid his tongue inside her mouth, letting her taste her own blood on his tongue. She was his world, his reason for living. She was light and goodness and everything that was right. He drove into her, pumping with feral lust and possession.

  “Julian,” she shrieked and moved harder against him. She howled, hips bucking. Her contracting muscles squeezed his cock until he was beyond the point of standing it.

  Groaning, he erupted, shooting hot jets into her core until he shuddered and then stilled against her. With his cock still buried deep, he continued kissing her.

  While his tongue kept her occupied, he undid the chains. Her freed hands dropped down around his neck and twined in his hair. He broke the kiss. “Promise me.”

  “I promise to be careful.”

  He kissed her and nipped at her lip. She was defiant to the end, but that’s why he cared for her so much. She wasn’t being beaten back by anyone, not even him.

  GAMES DIDN’T appeal to Christopher, but there were exceptions to everything. He hit the second floor stairwell and headed for the next level.

  The government building had closed hours earlier, but it hadn’t stopped him from gaining entry. He had a hand delivery to make and the government locks and alarms were laughable at best. He’d deftly avoided the single security camera in the lobby.

  He stepped out of the stairwell on the third floor and walked over ugly gray linoleum that matched the mop water-colored paint covering the walls. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. The place was probably crawling with cockroaches.

  He turned right. And there it was. First office on the left. Of course, the side of the building with the best view.

  He bent and set a small box in front of the door. The prick would find it in a couple of hours. The building opened at 6:30 and hopefully the son of a bitch would get there early. If not, it wouldn’t matter. No one would take the box, he was sure of it. No one would risk it.

  He wished he could be there and see the asshole open his little gift. Sometimes, even killing was eclipsed when the mighty was brought to their knees.

  SARANNA AWOKE and stretched. Julian lay wrapped around her. Anger closed on her, at him for refusing to respect her limits and at herself for reacting like a wanton whore.

  He slept deeply. Long, golden hair partially covered the sated look on his beautiful face. The sneaking bastard.

  No doubt he was worn out. He’d ridden her repeatedly through the night and between naps the following day. And she’d let him. Now she was tender and sore between her legs. Her thighs were still sticky and damp with his seed and she stank of sex.

  And he still hadn’t said he loved her.

  Her stomach twisted into a sick knot of hurt and indignation.

  “Goddamn it, Julian, wake up.”

  His eyes popped open and he sprang upright. “Saranna?”

  “You shit. How dare you? I told you, no sex.”

  “But I thought…”

  “You thought wrong.” Her eyes stung and she blinked, refusing to cry.

  “I didn’t set out to… It just happened.” He reached for her, but she jerked away.

  “Don’t touch me, you’ve done enough already.” She trembled and nausea rolled through her. Oh God, she was going to throw up. Saliva filled her mouth and she swallowed compulsively, a sure sign she was going to be sick. Soon.

  “Saranna? What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

  She leapt from the bed and raced for the bathroom. She barely made it over the toilet before everything came up.

  His arms slipped around her, supporting her until the retching was over.

  “Saranna?” Raw fear edged his voice. “Please tell me what’s wrong and let me take you to Jason.”

  “I’m not going to Jason,” she shouted. “I’m pregnant. I’m carrying your child.” She pulled from his arms and staggered to the sin
k.

  THE FLOOR buckled under Julian’s feet. His stomach plummeted. Saranna folded her arms over her breasts as he tried to process what she’d said.

  “But… I can’t produce children.” The words tripped over his lips and stumbled out into the chilled air in the space between them.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Think not?”

  “The injection—”

  “Failed.” She put her hand over her flat stomach. “Your offspring is inside me.”

  Stomach rolling, he shook his head. “No! No way.”

  She jerked her head up, her chin lifting. “Would you like to see the pregnancy test? I threw it in the bottom of the wastebasket.”

  Julian stood dumbfounded. Speechless. Then he sputtered, “We’re too young to be parents.”

  “Obviously not.” Sarcasm laced her words.

  “But … but I can’t be a father.”

  “Get out of my room,” she choked out.

  “But—”

  “Get out, Julian.” Her words rose a good three octaves. “I don’t want to look at you right now.”

  He lurched out of the bathroom, feeling like he might be ill himself.

  She slammed the door and the lock clicked. Muffled sobs filtered through the thin wood.

  “Saranna?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Please come out so we can talk.” Dazed, he scooped up his clothes.

  “Leave me alone. I’m not coming out until you leave.” Her words were thick with tears.

  The scent of sex and lilacs clubbed him with guilt and anguish. His chest and stomach ached with pain so deep he didn’t know if he would ever feel right again. Too shocked to do anything else, he dressed with shaking hands and wobbled from the bedroom.

  They had created a child, an innocent being to be brought into a world where he or she would be feared and hated by the human population.

  Anger and self-loathing coursed through him. But something else flickered as well—a deep, instinctive drive to protect the little life growing inside his mate. He would kill anyone or anything that threatened either of them.

  He stopped cold at the head of the stairs. What if Saranna wouldn’t let him back in her life? What if she wouldn’t allow him to be a father to their child?

  He stumbled down the steps and exited the house without bothering to put on a jacket.

  In a haze, he wandered the streets, barely registering the people and places he passed. Several times, he walked by Security Center officers, mindless of the danger until he was practically on them and couldn’t change course without drawing attention.

  He roamed until instinctive internal alarms sent him toward home. He had to get off the streets before dawn broke and cooked him alive. Though he wasn’t sure even that would make his night any worse.

  AT EXACTLY five minutes to seven, Banks bent and scooped up the small box sitting in front of his office door. This was the third time in a month that idiot Rizo had failed to deliver mail on time. Maybe he should put in a call to the mailroom and speak to the man’s supervisor.

  He stepped inside his office and dumped the box on his desk. Without bothering to sit, he powered up his laptop. He needed coffee before digging into the latest vampire activity reports waiting in his inbox.

  Maybe he should take care of the snail mail before he made coffee. He grabbed the box and grimaced. The ass who’d sent it had taped the damn thing as if he thought Satan might try to open it.

  Banks pawed through the top desk drawer until he found the letter opener and cut the strapping tape, freeing the lid. Newspaper clogged the top half of the box.

  He pulled out the paper. What the fuck? He grabbed the plastic wrapped object in the bottom. It lay in his hand like a limp sausage and squished a little as his fingers closed around it. It kind of felt like a… He peeled off the butcher’s tape and pulled open the plastic.

  Banks’ heart crammed up into his throat. Though he wanted to throw up, nothing was escaping, not even the scream of horror that desperately needed to get out.

  He stared at the male genitalia in his palm. And the hunk of white-blond hair streaked with blue that had been wrapped around the grisly object.

  Banks dropped the dismembered cock on his desk, threw back his head, and screamed with heart-broken horror and the sick knowledge that someone had butchered Robin.

  He staggered away from his desk and threw up in the wastebasket as the door burst open and three colleagues tumbled over each other.

  “What the hell?” Matt Ballen’s eyes darted around the office.

  “Oh, God,” Banks choked out. “One of those fucking bastards murdered my son.” Robin was gone. He sobbed into his hands. Robin was dead, mutilated.

  And whoever had done it was going to rue the day he’d been squeezed out of his mother.

  Chapter Forty-five

  SARANNA FOUND Slade alone in the living room. She sat in the recliner, away from him, and chewed her lip.

  “What’s the matter, sis?”

  Her heart turned over at the sadness in his eyes. “I need to talk to you.”

  His face flamed and he shifted on the sofa. “Please. I don’t want to go there. I was wrong to suggest such a thing. It will certainly never happen again.”

  “Not about that.” She didn’t want to talk about his indiscretion any more than he did. “I’ve been wondering about something for a long time and I need you to tell me the truth.”

  He visibly tensed. “About what?”

  “Did you kill Cerin?

  He hesitated, “Do you really want to know?”

  She met his eyes. “Yes.”

  “I killed him.”

  She gasped even though she expected it. Her stomach churned.

  “He left me no choice.” He ran a hand through his longish hair.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means he gave me no choice. And he paid the price.”

  She waited for him to elaborate. He looked her dead in the eyes and said nothing.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is he’s dead and I killed him. And now you’re wondering if I might kill Julian. Right?”

  She looked stricken and nodded.

  “I considered it when I found out he was screwing you. But I knew you would hate me and I couldn’t live with that.”

  “Julian would be your friend if you’d let him.”

  “I can’t. I’ll work with him because the movement needs him and I’ll try to get along with him for your sake, but I can’t be his friend.”

  Heartsick, in shock, she shook her head at his bullheadedness. She feared for Slade. And for Julian. Slade had acted out of sorts ever since the incident in the kitchen. Something about his eyes frightened her. The hot spark of fire in them had flamed out and a dull, flatness had taken its place.

  AFTER THE harrowing conversation with her brother, the quiet click of the door closing downstairs and the ensuing chatter flooded Saranna with relief. Julian was home. Her hand strayed to her belly and she whispered a little prayer of thanks. She didn’t think Slade intended to kill him, but the ever-present danger of the streets was a constant worry.

  In the three days since she’d told him about her pregnancy he’d made several attempts to talk with her. Avoiding him killed her, but she had to do it. She wouldn’t keep torturing herself over whether or not he could find it in himself to openly love her.

  She closed her hand around the jasper in the choker and they warmed in her hand. She felt their power. Why couldn’t he open himself to his true feelings? What had caused him to fear loving someone? Something he kept hidden, maybe even from himself. He cared deeply for her, the stones proved it. He wanted her, wanted to be with her, yet he couldn’t get past his own emotions.

  What in the world was she going to do? He was her mate and she loved him. But more to the point, his son slumbered in her womb. Without a doubt, the baby was male. Females didn’t throw the mother’s body off enoug
h to cause the wretched sickness she struggled with.

  She couldn’t deny him access to his son once the baby was born. And she didn’t know what she was going to do after the birth. She had no one to care for the baby when she had to go back to work. Traditionally, a female’s only role was to be a good mate and mother her children. But she didn’t have that option.

  She would have to come up with a plan. She didn’t have any other choice. Taking care of herself and her child, no matter what happened between her and Julian, was paramount.

  But after tomorrow night, it all might be taken out of her hands anyway. She’d overheard the males talking. Their orders had been greeted with enthusiasm. But she’d heard enough to know failure meant death to every one of them.

  She swallowed hard.

  Oh, dear God, if you care anything at all for our race, please keep them safe. Bring Julian home alive.

  FRAMER SIPPED his coffee and wrestled with his conscience. The virus was still off, but the latest batch had almost hit the mark.

  On the practical side, it was in the best interest of the human population, but it was an underhanded and cruel way of eliminating the vampire problem. But there wasn’t really a humane way to go about it. It wasn’t like the Administration hadn’t considered other options. They had and none of them had been feasible. That didn’t make it any easier, though. It was wrong and that was the bottom line.

  Once the virus was perfected and used, there would only be one acceptable course of action.

  The vampires would know, or at least suspect, they’d been set up, but they would no longer be a menace.

  Still, it was damn hard to accept, much less take a part in it. Maybe he had a shred of decency left, after all. But even so, there was nothing he could do except follow orders like the puppet he’d become.

  Stepping down and losing his pension wasn’t an option. Besides, whoever took his role would have the same order to carry out. No, he would goosestep along and carry out his part in the genocide of an entire species.