by Julia Mills
Alaric
A Vampire’s Thirst
by
Julia Mills
Copyright © 2018 Julia Mills
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
NOTICE: This is an adult erotic paranormal romance with love scenes and mature situations. It is only intended for adult readers over the age of 18.
Edited and Proofed by Tammy Payne with Book Nook Nuts
Beta Read by Linda Levy
Cover by Monica La Porta
Formatted by Charlene Bauer with Wickedly Bold Creations
DEDICATION
Dare to Dream! Find the Strength to Act! Never Look Back!
Thank you, God.
To my girls, Liz and Em, I Love You. Every day, every way, always.
Author’s Note
Hey there! Thanks for reading my book. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to be part of A.K. Michaels’ A Vampire’s Thirst World. Not only do I LOVE these vampires and the amazing stories that have already been published, but I simply ADORE Ava. She is a wonderful author, a great leader and a fabulous friend. When she asked me to be a part of this phenomenal journey with her, I was jumping down in my seat before I even typed YES!
Once again, I have to thank you, the reader, for taking a chance on a curvy chick who writes stories about dragons and reading Alaric’s story. I admit to falling in love with this egotistical, arrogant, pain in the butt and wishing I was Ashlynn much of the time.
ENJOY!
Thanks again to Ava, my Scottish sister from another mister. I LOVE YA, LADY!
Be safe. Read Lots. Dare to Dream. And NEVER forget – I love y’all!!
XOXO Julia
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
About Julia
Also by Julia
Chapter One
Stalking through the abandoned structure, warm blood dripping from his chin and staining the front of his stark white shirt, he reveled in the game of cat-and-mouse the pathetic humans continued to play. The scent of their fear, the pounding of their hearts, the whoosh of their warm, succulent life essence as it flowed through their delicate veins was intoxicating. The thrill of the hunt was upon him, and nothing would keep him from claiming his prize.
Standing in the hallway, inhaling deeply, the long-forgotten growl of the predator he’d locked away so long ago rumbled within his chest. Long, sharp, and deadly, his fangs once again slid from his gums. Scratching and clawing to be set free, the beast rose to the surface, refusing to be ignored.
They were close. The heavenly aphrodisiac of their terror hung in the air teasing his scents, arousing his desire. Pictures of them hiding, holding one another in the darkness, praying for their very lives flashed in the chaos of thirst and need that was his mind.
Throwing back his head, his arms spread wide, fists clenched so tightly his nails tore through the skin of his palms, the ancient vampire let his rage fill the empty halls as he roared to a God who’d long ago abandoned him. Tonight, he would finally be free. Tonight, the beast would feast.
Slamming the heel of his boot through the large wooden doors to his right, lured by their scent through what was left of the splintered wood hanging from the rusting and creaking hinges, he ripped through the room, a predator hunting his prey.
Tossing the rotting, forgotten furniture aside as if it were no more than children’s toys, his ravenous gaze landed upon the young, nubile women, foolishly thinking they could hide from him. Huddled in the corner, their bodies curled so tightly he couldn’t see where one ended and the other began, the women’s screams reverberated off the barren walls.
Lunging forward, he fisted their long, tangled tresses, and yanked their heads back until they could go no farther. His cock hardened as his canines ravaged the first woman’s neck. Hot, sweet, and coppery, the blood flowed across his tongue, igniting his every sense like the finest port.
Draining the first dry in moments, he let her useless corpse fall to the ground as his focus shifted to his second victim now unconscious in his grasp. Shoving her head to the side, he drank his fill, his erection painfully hard as it pushed against the zipper of his pants.
Blood…Sex…Need…Rage…
Over and over he drained his victims, one right after another, seeking release where there was none. Hunger, thirst, desire, bled together, a fantastical morbid mosaic that became a living, breathing entity within him, refusing to be quenched.
Following the thunderous beat of the last remaining heartbeat, he reached into the darkness. Stifling her screams with his hand around her neck, already tasting every drop of her blissful blood as he snuffed out her life, his fangs tore at the tender skin of her neck…
“Alaric!” The voice slammed into his consciousness.
“She’s mine,” he snarled, the talons at the ends of his fingers connecting with skin and bone, the blood of yet another victim flowing down his arm.
Jumping to his feet, letting the woman’s lifeless body crumble to the floor, he scanned left and then right, searching for the bastard who dared to interrupt his feeding. Scenting the stale, fetid air, he sifted through the stench of decay and rotted flesh, smoke filling his lungs as the voice returned, roaring, “Wake the fuck up! You’re going to burn the place down.”
Reaching from the depths of his nightmares, Alaric’s fingers tightened around the thick, corded muscles of a man’s neck, fantasy and reality battled for control of his mind. Nameless, faceless bodies littered the ground at his feet, his eyes landing on the last body, the most important, the one he’d been searching for…
“No!” He bellowed.
Bursting forth, throwing off the hauntingly vivid visions that dogged his every step both day and night, his eyes popped open, immediately meeting the steely stare of his longtime friend and Second-in-Command, Ruari, as the younger vampire snarled through gritted teeth, “Kindly remove your claws from my neck.”
“Claws?” The word had barely crossed Alaric’s lips as his eyes snapped to Ruari’s neck.
Retracting his deadly talons, Alaric’s mouth watered as he watched the fresh, crimson trails of blood flow into one at the base of his friend’s neck before disappearing under the collar of his black CRAVE SECURITY T-shirt.
“Like what you see?” Ruari growled, getting to his feet before adding, “What the hell is wrong with you?” Pointing to the silver, stainless steel trash can at the far side of the bed, he went on, “You haven’t lost control of your fire in centuries. Are the Dragons close?”
“No,” Alaric grunted, climbing out of bed, refusing to look at the other man. “They are not.” He strode across the room naked, his dick hard and his shoulders thrown back, refusing to make excuses or acknowledge the demons that were chasing him. “And I will thank you to but the hell out.”
Walking into the bathroom, tryi
ng to slam the door on yet another reminder of how far he’d fallen, Alaric stamped down his contempt as Ruari’s beefy palm on the wood stopped the slam he so longed to hear. “Talk. Now. You’re a fuckin’ mess.”
Glaring at his friend, thoughts of ripping out Ruari’s throat and leaving him on the floor to bleed out, Alaric refused to speak. Pounding heartbeats, the succulent scent of fresh blood filled his senses as the club’s employees began to arrive. Snapping his jaws shut to hide his extending fangs he gave the door a final thrust, leaning against the cool wood and letting out the breath he’d been holding.
“This isn’t over,” Ruari spat a split-second before the ringing of the bell of Alaric’s private elevator echoed through his penthouse apartment letting him know the younger vampire had thankfully stormed out.
“Aye, no truer words were ever spoken, my friend,” he mumbled, wiping the sweat from his brow. “God save my worthless soul if this shit gets any worse.”
Chapter Two
“I really, really don’t want to go to this party,” she blew out the breath she’d been holding while putting on her mascara. “Isn’t it enough that I’m wearing a bright yellow, organza monstrosity Cecily called a bridesmaid’s dress? Why do I have to go to her bachelorette party, too?”
“Because you’ve known her since you guys were in third grade. It’s the right thing to do and… You’re a nice person.” Ash’s best friend Leslie winked at her in the mirror from over her shoulder. “And let us not forget, you need a night out. Time to face the world with that dazzling smile. What’s it been…three or four years since you did anything more than dinner and a movie with me or Cecily?”
“Oh, shut up,” she grumped, fixing her bangs then turning her head side-to-side to be sure her blush was even while trying to convince herself that she was going to have fun.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go out, maybe even meet a nice guy, fall madly in love, have a few little ankle-biters and live happily-ever-after. That had actually been her dream since she was old enough to clomp around in her mom’s high heels and paint her lips with pink lipstick. However, being the youngest pediatric cardiothoracic surgeon in the southwest, a woman and having a cute baby-face was not conducive to finding a mate.
The last guy she’d gone out with had spent the first fifteen minutes of their date reading her profile from google. “Dr. Ashlynn Annalissa Aimsleigh, Triple A to her friends and family, is a renowned cardiac surgeon not only in the United States but also abroad. In her undergraduate years, she graduated Summa Cum Laude from Harvard with the third highest GPA in the university’s history. Going on to complete her graduate, doctorate and medical training at the prestigious Johns Hopkins University, she then returned to her home state of Texas after and is presently the youngest ever Head Surgeon at Children’s Medical Center Dallas. She has been…”
That was where she tuned out, sipped on her margarita and acted like she couldn’t hear him over the music when he asked how much she earned a year. Why was it that men always asked two things after they found out who she was – her gross yearly income and if she’d ever ‘done it’ in an operating room?
“Stop thinking so hard, Ash. Take Dr. Leslie’s orders and have some fun.” The tall, thin blond she’d known for most of her life handed Ashlynn a cold bottle of Corona, the lime already floating on the clear, amber liquid. “I am ordering you to have at least one drink every thirty minutes until the break of dawn.”
Snickering despite her misgivings about setting foot in the club D Magazine called, ‘The most decadently hedonistic experience in the state of Texas. You don’t have to wear leather to feel the heat. Whether you’re a voyeur or enjoy hands-on pleasure, CRAVE is the place to be’ Ash had to admit she was curious to see what lurked behind the dark windows and sleek lines of the club that seemed to appear out of thin air and always had eager patrons lining up around the block.
Then there was the club’s owner, the single-named, drop-dead gorgeous, mysterious millionaire known as, Alaric. Of course, the editors of Dallas’ trendiest magazine had not only featured him on the cover but also had a complete six-page spread inside. Sales for that issue had to be the best the publication had ever seen. Hell, Ashlynn went to four newsstands just to get her copy. The moment she’d seen his face, she’d been compelled to possess a copy.
It was as if his photo had jumped off the page, demanding to be adored. Alaric had immediately become Ashlynn’s guilty pleasure. She’d hidden the magazine in the stack of medical journals beside her bed, just in case any of her friends made an impromptu visit, then stared at it nearly every night. It was the first time she’d drooled over a guy on a magazine cover since she’d been in middle school and purchased Teen Beat, but she just couldn’t help herself.
The weight of his stare, his eyes the perfect blend of cobalt and ashen charcoal, made her heart skip a beat and her temperature rise. Her fingers ached with the need to explore the wide set of his shoulders and muscular biceps that tempestuously tested the strength of his starched, light-blue, cotton shirt of which he’d roguishly turned up at the cuffs.
Jumping from her thoughts as Leslie cleared her throat, a sure sign she was losing her patience, Ashlynn countered, “How about one an hour and I limit myself to beer? Will that satisfy Dr. Party Pants?”
Nearly spitting out her Corona as she barked with laughter Leslie teased, “Damn straight, I’m Dr. Party Pants. I have a Ph.D. in Boogie-Oogie-Oogie and a specialty in Hot Bods.”
“Oh my God.” It was Ashley’s turn to burst out laughing. “How old are you? Boogie-Oogie-Oogie? I can’t wait to tell Cecily and the others. Maybe we need to stop at the Thrift Store and get you a pair of platforms and a neon-striped tank top.”
Throwing her hand in the air, Leslie chuckled, “You’re just jealous. The girls will be dazzled by my wit and brilliance. You know it’s true.”
“You know I do. I live in awe of you.” Clicking off the light, Ashlynn followed her best friend down the hall. “Do you have your purse?”
“No, not taking one and neither are you.” Grabbing the bag from Ash’s hand, Leslie tasked, “Good Lordy, Girl. You can’t go to a club with an overnight bag.” Lifting the large mocha-colored leather purse up-and-down a few times like it was a weight, she added, “We gotta travel light. There will be butts to squeeze and chests to explore. Have to keep our hands free.” Dropping the purse, she waggled her eyebrows. “Put your debit card and cash in your bra, your phone in your back pocket and lipstick in the front with your keys.” Grabbing Ashlynn’s hand, she whooped, “It’s off to the Den of Debauchery we go.”
Struggling to keep up while stowing her belongings where her bestie had instructed, Ashlynn groaned, “Are you sure these pants aren’t too tight? I can barely get my phone in my pocket and don’t get me started on this blouse. I swear my boobs are gonna pop out the top. A wardrobe malfunction is imminent.”
“Hush and come on. You look like a rock star,” Leslie pulled her out the door. “Your body is bangin’.”
Looking over her shoulder, Ash scoffed, “Bangin’? Have you been hanging out with your ‘crew’ again?”
“Oh, shut up. I can’t help it that I teach Sophomore English to a bunch of inner-city thugs.” She laughed. “You know I love those kids.” She shrugged. “Besides, they teach me the coolest things.” Chuckling, she added, “Now, stop deflecting. We all keep telling you that you have an awesome figure. Men love curves. I have no clue why you hide it under baggy scrubs and a lab coat.”
Locking the door and shoving her keys into her pocket, Ashlynn snickered, “Ummm, because I’m a doctor.”
“Yeah, okay. Just promise me you’ll chill out and have some fun. Seriously, Ash, you need it.”
Making up her mind to take her friend’s advice, Ashlynn gave a single nod and emphatically agreed, “Yes, I do.” Slipping her arm through Leslie’s, she added, “Let’s do this,” as they hurried towards the taxi waiting at the end of her walkway. “Tonight, I am just plain Ash. No
Dr. Aimsleigh in sight. Watch out world, here I come.”
Chapter Three
Opening his second bottle of his special blood/Merlot mix, Alaric filled his chalice and turned towards the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him. Tight and overheated, his skin so sensitive to touch that he stood naked, gazing at the twinkling lights of the spectacular skyline. Hell, he couldn’t even touch the soul of others anymore. When he tried, all he saw were the horrific visions of him draining them dry or fucking them senseless or both.
Add lost my fucking mind to the list of ailments and rip the heart from my chest. This bastard is down for the count…
Images of a huge, stone and mortar castle, the stronghold of Iain MacLauren, the Chieftain of Monadh Criobhe, filled his mind. The enticing scents of sea air, fresh rain and heather filled his senses. The caw of the gulls and the sound of horses’ hooves thundering across the countryside echoed within his mind, precious memories from a time long forgotten by most. So far away, both in time and space, but so very important. Every second, every action, every step had led him to this place, this time, this uncontrollable, all-encompassing need threatening the entire world he’d built from the ground up.
The pitter pat of little leather soles on the cold stone floors of one of the bastle homes where his father’s soldiers slept awaiting the next battle resonated through the long, narrow halls. “Whaur ur ye, Bastien? Aur ye hidin'?” The high voice of his six-year-old self called out mere seconds before he squealed with excitement.
“Aye, Ah’m hidin' froom ye. Is 'at nae th' point oof thes silly game?” His father’s Second teased, his baritone rumble tickling the young boy even more as the mountain of a man picked him up and swung him around.