The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - Marcus

by CC MacKenzie

"After we made love, I dreamt you bit me, right here."

  Tipping back her head, she placed fingertips on the carotid artery in her neck.

  Marcus said nothing, held his breath.

  Endless moments passed.

  Anais went too pale as perspiration beaded on her top lip.

  He moved to sit on the bed.

  Taking her sore hand in his, Marcus thought it felt too hot.

  His brow wrinkled as he studied the wound.

  She wasn't healing as fast as she should.

  Could this be the commencement of her anamorphosis?

  As he brought her hand to his mouth, he nuzzled her fingers to inhale the scent of her... fear.

  His eyes never left hers.

  "How did it feel?"

  "It stung. And I had the most amazing orgasm."

  "And then what happened?"

  She shook her head, gave a nervous laugh, pulled her hand away and ran it through the heavy weight of her hair.

  "And then I dreamt I woke up. I ran to the bathroom to make sure I was still in one piece. This is ridiculous. I’ve been working too hard."

  He took her hand again and stroked the silky skin of her palm, and didn’t miss the dilation of arousal in her pupils or the catch of breath in her throat.

  Marcus decided to approach the subject the long way round.

  "You are adopted?"

  Now Anais gave him a big wide smile and the squeezing sensation in his chest made it difficult to breathe.

  "Yes, and they’re wonderful people. I owe them everything."

  His eyes held hers.

  "Where did they find you?"

  Now her face fell.

  "In an orphanage in Vietnam. I was two weeks old."

  "What happened to your parents?"

  She shrugged and the move made the sheet dip, exposing part of a creamy breast.

  "I don't know. I was abandoned in a blanket on the steps of an orphanage run by nuns. Because I'm mixed race, the nuns were not hopeful I'd be placed in a family. My parents saved me from a difficult life."

  "Your adopted parents, they loved you, cared for you?"

  He realised the careful tone of his voice had alerted her this was not a casual enquiry.

  Those dark eyes searched his.

  "Yes."

  Again he attempted to settle her by stroking her palm before pressing his mouth to that soft, silky skin.

  "Did they ever discover the identity of your biological parents?"

  Her heart rate climbed.

  He could feel it in the frantic pulse of her wrist.

  "I know nothing about them other than I have Vietnamese blood in my veins along with French and Irish, apparently."

  "You had a DNA test?"

  "Yes." Her voice was a mere whisper.

  "If I told you there was a possibility of another blood-line in your past, what would you say?"

  She blinked once, twice.

  "What sort of blood line?"

  This time he stroked her hair in a pitiful attempt to offer comfort.

  The evil moment had come.

  Bite the bullet, Marcus.

  He braced himself.

  "Vampyre."

  Chapter Eleven

  Anais had heard people use the phrase, ‘The world spun.’

  However, she'd never experienced the phenomenon until now.

  Two things hit her.

  Marcus was absolutely serious, and he was looking at her as if she was a grenade with the pin pulled. For unremitting moments she forgot she was naked. Forgot she was sitting in his bed. Forgot they'd had mind blowing sex.

  She simply stared into his eyes.

  It was like watching a flickering movie as everything that had happened when they’d made love was replayed in her brain.

  Heat flashed into her face as she remembered the total abandon and pleasure she’d experienced in his arms, to drain away as she recalled the sensation of being bitten and of the warm, thick fluid in her mouth.

  Her eyes flicked to his neck.

  Leaning forward to take a closer look, she found a couple of tiny bruises on his carotid artery. A shaky hand went to her throat, her mouth, as her fingertips pressed into her incisors but they felt normal.

  Her analytical mind found the reality of his word and what it meant too hard to compute.

  Right now her brain seemed to split into two separate parts.

  One part was screaming like a fruit loop while the logical, deductive and trained to observe part required her to confront the facts.

  Her voice was no more than a whisper.

  "Did you bite me?"

  Those dark eyes never left hers.

  "I did, yes."

  Anais couldn’t think.

  She couldn’t breathe past the fist in her chest.

  God, was he a man who indulged in a type of kinky sex?

  Marcus took her hand again, threaded his fingers through hers.

  The simple act seemed to bring her back from horror to her crazy reality.

  The man was certifiably insane.

  Or was he?

  Eyes glued to his, she searched for a sign he was a few cents short of a full dollar.

  "Did you drink my blood?"

  She saw the truth in those eyes before he spoke, "I took your vein, Anais."

  The shudder was so violent it rattled her teeth and her vision blurred.

  Blinking furiously, she knew now that the burning sensation in her belly was real and not imagined.

  A heavy wave of nausea rose, reminding her of severe motion sickness.

  Her voice was harsh as it sawed through utter terror.

  "What the hell does that mean?" she cried.

  His eyes narrowed fractionally at her tone before going icy cold with a determination and a possession that chilled her to the marrow.

  "It means you are my mate. Joined to me, soul to soul, flesh to flesh and heart to heart... until we die."

  Yep, he was off his head and absolutely certifiable.

  Anais jolted, snatching her hands from his as if she’d been electrocuted.

  Leaping to her feet she instantly regretted it as the world did indeed spin.

  Marcus held her arm and she slapped his hand away before tearing the cotton sheet off the bed and wrapping it toga style around her trembling body.

  "Don’t you dare touch me," she spat the words and raced into the bathroom to check her neck in the mirror.

  Yes, there were two tiny pinpricks on her carotid artery but no bruising.

  She touched it.

  No pain.

  At least that was something.

  She bared her teeth, checked her gums, and decided she was losing her frigging mind.

  Or worse, that she was in a hotel bedroom alone with a raging lunatic.

  Marcus opened the bathroom door, now wearing his low slung jeans unbuttoned at the waist and she didn’t know whether to be relieved or bitterly disappointed that he wore clothing.

  He leaned against the doorpost looking all loose and limber and totally relaxed as his eyes met hers in the mirror.

  "I suppose you think this is really funny, a big ha-ha joke?" Her voice was going higher and she couldn't help it. "You're scaring me, Marcus."

  She checked her neck again and now couldn’t find the pinpricks, everything looked perfectly normal. But God, she felt physically sick and swallowed down another horrible wave of nausea.

  "You assaulted me."

  "I have told you nothing but the truth."

  Her eyes locked with his and she read sincerity, self-belief.

  Dear heaven, he truly believed every word he said.

  As if talking to an imbecile, she articulated each word,

  "Vampires. Do. Not. Exist."

  "Not vampires," he said in the same tone as 'Pass the salt.' "Vampyres. The emphasis on the ‘y’ is specific."

  Marcus had to admire her courage as she stood there and beaned him with that dead on stare.

  She looked fragile.<
br />
  Now her skin had taken on a green tinge that warned him of trouble coming sooner rather than later.

  She swallowed audibly.

  Filling a glass with cold water, her hand was trembling as if she had a fever.

  She took a sip before spitting the liquid into the sink.

  Then she clutched her belly with what he knew would be the first wave of many cramps as the initial one hit her.

  His own stomach clutched as she went too pale too fast.

  "This whole conversation," she gasped. "Is idioti...."

  That was as far as she got before she was violently sick in the sink.

  And it wasn’t pretty.

  Praying to God that it passed soon, Marcus held her hair back out of the line of fire.

  Anais tried to push him away, but another bout of sickness overtook her and she couldn’t even find the strength to scream as she stared in utter horror at the dark, almost black, blood clots pouring out of her into the sink.

  "I'm dying," she moaned as another wave hit her.

  He’d read about and listened to his father lecture on the subject of the female transition from human to vampyre, but he’d never seen a newborn emerge before. When Anais shrieked in agony as the cramps brought her to her knees, the thought occurred to Marcus that he should have paid closer attention.

  By the time she was curled up in a mewling ball on the floor, he realised that something was wrong.

  Very wrong.

  Alarm raced up his spine.

  It was not supposed to be like this.

  He’d never read or heard anything about pain or such violent sickness in a mated female.

  Perhaps he’d taken too much of her blood?

  Perhaps he’d given her too much of his?

  Cold fear joined alarm now as her cries rose and fell in a long heartfelt wail.

  His blood was pure, handed down in a direct line from his father.

  As he picked up Anais and placed her in the vast stone bath, he wracked his brain for information on what he needed to do next to help her. Information that wasn’t forthcoming.

  She was moaning now, the bed sheet covered in bodily fluids and Marcus was too afraid to leave her to call his father for help.

  The next two hours were their own version of a living hell.

  And he stayed with her until she was a whimpering mess.

  Muttering endless soothing noises that meant Christ only knew what, Marcus managed to bathe her like a baby.

  He washed her hair and dried her limp body before wrapping her in a blanket and placing her on their bed.

  He noticed her cheeks were flushed, but he could only hope the worst was over.

  Placing the back of his hand on her forehead he realised she was burning up.

  Jesus, now what?

  Striding into the sitting room, he grabbed his cell and jabbed the number for his father.

  "Papa?"

  Fighting to keep the blind panic from his voice Marcus explained his predicament.

  Duncan Gillespie gave a heartfelt sigh.

  "She took too much, too fast. Our blood is potent, Marcus. I am alerting Saira and her team. Try and keep Anais calm."

  With a sinking feeling in his gut, Marcus simply stared at the cell phone in his hand and realised he’d messed up.

  Spectacularly.

  He stalked to the bedroom and got the shock of his life when he found the bed empty, as was the bathroom. Heart in his mouth, he raced to the balcony, and blew out a very relieved breath to find it still locked from the inside.

  So where the hell was...

  Before he could complete the thought his vampyre hissed a warning.

  The hair on the back of his neck rose as a low growl sounded behind him.

  He spun and found nothing.

  Then carefully, slowly, his eyes tilted up.

  Holy crap.

  Shit.

  Naked, Anais clung to the ceiling with fingernails and toenails that now resembled thick black talons. Fear for her was an icy fist in his belly. Lumps of plaster rained down as, with some difficulty, she made her way from a dark corner and crossed the ceiling towards him. Damp black strands of hair hung over her bloodless face. He didn’t miss the snarl from her throat or the way her needle sharp fangs, small and white, pierced her bottom lip leaving a bloody trail on the ivory wool carpet.

  Wild eyes, fire engine red and pitiless, stared into his as her head tilted back and forth.

  Ooooh, boy.

  For the second time in one day, he wished he'd listened more carefully when his father and brothers had discussed what might happen when a newborn vampyre was brought into the world. He'd swear they'd said it took a minimum of three exchanges of blood before a vampyre emerged. He and Anais had exchanged two.

  So something was very, very wrong here.

  And as his frantic thoughts spun through his head, all the while his eyes never left the girl on the ceiling.

  With her wet hair plastered to her head, her skin almost pearlescent, those vicious eyes, needle-sharp teeth chewing at her bottom lip and making a big mess, never mind how her fingers and toes resembled talons of black bone. Anais looked, well, hideous.

  A mix of guilt and sympathy rose in his lungs.

  Anais must be so confused, so bewildered at what was happening to her, and absolutely terrified.

  Poor wee thing.

  His hands reaching out, Marcus took a step toward her.

  And snatched them back when she shrieked like a banshee.

  Bloody hell.

  The way his heart battered against his ribs, made him rub the spot.

  It cost him, but he kept his voice calm and soft.

  "Anais, sweetheart, come down from the ceiling now. There’s a good girl."

  At the sound of his voice her eyes narrowed into red slits that seriously freaked him out since he could feel the dark side of his personality revving up for action.

  Her vampyre was triggering the emergence of his. And if his vampyre went on the attack Anais wouldn’t have a hope in hell of getting out of this in once piece.

  Although gazing at her now he had to admit she wasn’t exactly looking her best.

  "Come on, Anais, my wee darlin’," crooned Marcus.

  Her response was a spit of something unmentionable that hit him in the eye and stung like a bitch.

  His yelp had the monster on the ceiling chortle wildly with demonic laughter.

  And that sound, and the sheer wickedness behind it, broke the choke hold he had on his vampyre.

  The muscles of his torso, his arms and legs, became fuller.

  His fangs shot down from his gums.

  The howl of his vampyre's outrage shook the crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling.

  The sound had her red eyes go wide with what looked like shock.

  Marcus wasn't so far gone that he didn't recognise that even in the confusion of her emerging vampyre, Anais appeared to recognise a bigger and badder beast.

  She scurried backwards to her corner in the ceiling and watched him with big red eyes the size of tennis balls as he stalked towards her.

  His voice was a volcanic rumble in his chest.

  "Get down off the ceiling, Anais. NOW!"

  Time itself seemed to stand still as, for a relentlessly drawn-out moment, she simply stared at him.

  Then incredibly she pouted and made a tiny mewling sound in her throat.

  Marcus merely folded big arms over his tremendous chest and raised a dark brow.

  Her answer was to turn her back giving him a fantastic view of her bare bottom.

  With a huge leap and grab, he had her on the floor eating the carpet.

  And Anais made the deplorable mistake of putting up a fight.

  Chapter Twelve

  In a flash Marcus had the flat of his large hand pressed firmly between her shoulder blades.

  He knew it was a regrettable fact of vampyre life that only pain inflicted hard and fast would bring a new born back from an
out of control temper tantrum. A tantrum that had her snarling and attempting to buck under his hand.

  In this state she had the strength of ten human men.

  Good job he had the strength of twenty.

  He didn’t give her any warning.

  No point since she wouldn’t have heard him over the snarling and shrieking that threatened to burst his eardrums.

  His hand came down hard and fast on her bare bottom.

  By the time he was finished she was sobbing into the carpet and her backside was glowing. An unfortunate by-product of the spanking was that Marcus smelled her arousal. However, his vampyre didn’t think it was unfortunate at all as he growled low in his throat. Now he sniffed at her neck, and nuzzled his nose, his mouth and his teeth on the frantic pulse.

  Anais, bless her, mewled and purred like a contented kitten as his vampyre slid large hands over her burning backside and explored her intimately. She tilted her cute little ass, came up on her knees and wiggled her bare bottom.

  Now he was spread over her, huge thighs trembling like a stallion covering a mare. And since there was nothing that Marcus could do about his vampyre's needs, he decided to let nature take its course. Even in his over-aroused state, Marcus unzipped his jeans, freed himself and ordered his vampyre to take care with her. To give him his due, the beast did his level best, but once he slid his throbbing shaft into that tight, hot and wet sheath, all bets were off.

  The head of his erection was thicker in this state, more engorged with blood and muscle and Anais fit him like a glove. Flexing his hips, watching himself as he slid out and in, out and in, made the sting at the base of his spine hurt so good. Her body held him in a tight, wet fist... and squeezed. The sensation had him roar as the vicelike muscles flexing in her core attempted to milk him. His heart jerked against his ribs as his breath caught in his throat. Christ, he’d never felt anything like it.

  He pounded into her, harder, faster, to the accompanying symphony of her cries of pleasure. Her orgasm was gathering, he could feel it and it was going to be... outstanding.

  Her entire body jerked, went rigid as her mouth stretched wide in a silent scream that became an endless wail.

  Her core muscles flexed and contracted over and over as molten heat from her womb flooded him, and his seed rocketed into her again and again.