Evading (Regent Vampire Lords Book 4)

by K. L. Kreig

  “You’re very overbearing, especially in the bedroom.” The words held nothing but sweet fucking submission. An unknown concept to Giselle.

  He lunged forward, palmed her nape, and pulled her close until their noses touched. “You need it. You need one place to just give in and give up your staunch control, Giselle, and know that it won’t be taken advantage of. That you have someone who loves your soul and reveres your body like it’s a fucking temple to be worshipped, which it is.”

  Her smile was fleeting and tender. Once again, he felt as if he’d said and done the right thing. He dropped his hold and eased back to gauge her next move.

  Anxiety.

  Tension.

  Awe.

  Love.

  Heady, fucking, intoxicating desire.

  They mixed together and rolled off her in crashing sprays, dousing him from head to toe in every potent emotion she felt.

  Mike began jacking himself again, slow and steady. When her gaze dropped to his stone-hard erection and she licked her lips, his control nearly shattered. “I’m going to come all over myself in a minute and I’d much rather come inside of you, so what’s it going to be, baby? Us or them?”

  When her bewitching blues snapped back to his, he saw it before she said it.

  Thank fucking God.

  “Us. It’s going to be us.” Her velvet voice bled seduction, luring him in thoroughly. Reaching up, she hooked her thumbs in the caps of her sleeves and gracefully pushed the dress all the way down.

  Her impeccable tits popped out first. Her nipples were the shade of milk chocolate, a shade darker than the furrowed areolas surrounding them. The tight little points protruded from the most flawlessly shaped spheres he’d ever seen. Fucking perfection, she was. Every creamy bit of her.

  Ever so slowly, Giselle worked the leather down her torso and over her curvaceous hips. She was now taunting, teasing and if the cheeky smile on her face was any indication, she was enjoying it.

  He was mesmerized. In a fucking trance watching every fluid shift of her sexy-as-hell curves until she finally—finally—stood completely bared before him.

  Giselle was always cocky and self-assured. She walked with a confident swagger on her hips and surety set between her shoulder blades. Her mouth was fixed in a permanent smirk. Her head always rode high and proud. But all he saw right now was an emotionally stripped-down, vulnerable woman who needed reassurance. His woman was such a contradiction, it made his head spin.

  Giselle started toward him, but he held up his hand. “Stop.” When she nervously bit her lip he added, “Just give me a minute to drink in the very definition of perfection, Giselle.”

  Raw desire glassed over her hooded eyes, brightening the pigment so much he was hypnotized. “Come here,” he muttered, holding out his hand. Easing them back, he pulled her atop of him. Her slick folds cradled his pulsing dick perfectly and it screamed in agony for relief, yet he held fast. This was Giselle’s world; he was just living in it now. No, not just living. Basking. Savoring every second that her royal eyes raked over him like she was barren without him.

  He devoured her in return.

  Giselle. His regal queen.

  She sat high on his hips.

  Thighs clamped. Pussy quivering. Body flushed. Breath sharp.

  Perching her fingertips on his pecs, she scored his flesh lightly with her razor-tipped nails. With a drawn-out breath, she tilted her head back and her eyes closed in unmistakable ecstasy, but she didn’t move. So, neither did he.

  Oh shit, it was hard, though. He wanted to move. Just a slight shift of his hips and he’d be engulfed in her hot, hot pussy, probably coming within seconds.

  Locking his seed securely in his balls, he stretched his arms, cupped her face, and tilted it down. “I love you, Giselle. So very much,” he told her softly, patiently.

  Her eyes popped open and met his. He waited. He didn’t know which Giselle he’d get when she finally decided to open that smart mouth of hers, but it didn’t matter. He’d take any of them. Wanted them all. So he just waited. “I love you, too,” she finally echoed.

  Fuuuuuck.

  Not what he was expecting.

  Now his eyes fell shut.

  He was a solid mass of the purest, basest fucking joy a person could possibly fathom. No three words in the history of life ever sounded as lyrical as the woman he was mad for telling him she loved him back right before he was getting ready to sink inside her for the first time, making her his. It was almost poetic or some shit he didn’t even know about.

  When he pried his lids open, Giselle was staring at him with raw, do-me-right-now hunger. The way her front teeth sank into her bottom lip drawing a slight amount of blood and how she shifted toward him ever so slightly was an open invitation. He’d wanted to give her the reins so she could take this at her pace, but it was so obvious she was gifting them back to him instead.

  Instinct took over then. Jackknifing up, he slanted his mouth over hers and took. He took her moans and made them his. He stole her pleas and tucked them away. Ate her sighs as an appetizer. He now owned each svelte bit of flesh he passed over. The slope of her shoulders, the swell of her breasts, the roundness of her cheeks, the silkiness of her luscious pussy. All of it. His.

  “Every square inch of this is mine,” he breathed before taking a nibble from Giselle’s supple throat, living inside her low moan. Her nipples stabbed into his chest like pointy diamonds. They needed to be sucked. Hard. “Every fucking one of them,” he croaked.

  Laying her on her back, he rose over her. Her skin was bright pink, her chest heaving, her lidded eyes begging. He wanted to do so many savage, wicked, dirty things to her. He wanted to discipline her for endlessly tormenting him the past few months. He wanted to lay claim to her soul, stain her heart, corrupt her thoughts. He wanted to fuck her in the dirtiest of ways, adoring her in the sweetest ones only when he’d sated the devil inside.

  Tonight needed to be the latter, though. He needed to shelve his primal instinct to devour her. He’d have the rest of his life for raunchy and obscene. Mike didn’t really know how vampires married, but he planned to find out because no matter what it took, she was his permanently.

  “I’m going to make love to you, Giselle. Do you want that?”

  “Yes,” was barely a whisper.

  “I’m going to be the first man to do that, aren’t I?” he asked softly.

  She nodded, hesitant, almost as if she was embarrassed.

  He wasn’t. He was a competitive bastard and loved he was first.

  “Good,” he said, his voice husky, before leaning down to kiss her plump lips. Running his tongue along her seam, she opened and he took advantage. He tasted. He gently dominated. He owned her forked tongue the way he did the rest of her. “I’m glad.”

  “I ache, Mike.” Giselle squirmed and writhed beneath him, her liquid curves a deadly siren song to the wrong prey.

  “I know, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

  Mike’s thumbs grazed the peaks of her breasts on the descent past the nip of her tiny waist to the swell of her hips before traveling to the curve of her smooth ass. Squeezing each taut globe, he tilted her hips and wedged himself between her split legs.

  “Condom?” he asked at the last second, hoping like hell she’d say no.

  When she shook her head, he lined the head of his weeping dick up with her saturated hole, bent to suck a bronzed beaded nipple into his mouth, and began to ease in. Instinctively, he knew it was going to be a tight fit, but once he was fully seated she would glove him perfectly.

  But as she swallowed inch after inch of his shaft, nothing could have prepared him for this ethereal, rare beauty named Giselle.

  Jesus H. Christ.

  His senses were on overload.

  She tasted creamy and tart under his tongue.

  She felt like the fiery floors of hell, but also, the gateway to heaven clenched so goddamned snug around his cock. He had to breathe through his nose or blow his load befor
e he’d taken his first stroke.

  “Giselle. Fuck. Holy shit you feel amazing.”

  She was so wet, so goddamned wet and so hot. So tight and hot and wet.

  Shit.

  He worked himself in and out, taking his time, trying not come prematurely like some sixteen-year-old feeling virgin pussy for the first time, but Christ. He couldn’t deny that’s what she felt like.

  Once he was seated to the hilt, bottomed out, he let himself take in a deep, calming breath. Smoothing the sweaty hair from around her face, he managed to choke out, “You okay?”

  Her walls clamped around him and he groaned so damn loud. He wasn’t going to make it. He was going to lose it right here, right now. She felt so…shit, mind blowing.

  “Yes.” She nodded frantically. “Please move. Please. It feels so good. So good.”

  He did then.

  He withdrew and rammed himself back inside, all thoughts of lazy and slow now gone. All finesse forgotten. But who gave a fuck. Nothing had ever felt this good. Nothing ever would.

  Pulling out again, he felt every ridge of her silky walls work against his rigid, veiny cock driving them up together. It wouldn’t be long. He wasn’t going to last and neither was she if the harsh breaths in his ear and the scores she was laying down his back were any indication.

  He’d been with plenty of women, but it’s as if he’d been perpetually thirsty, always parched. With Giselle, he was quenched, filled. A lifetime of famine was coming to an end as his balls drew up tight and the base of his spine tingled with that familiar itch. He tried to hold back. He really did. “Fuck, Giselle, I’m going to come.”

  “I’m so close,” she murmured. “Please.”

  With Herculean effort, he held his own climax back to take care of his woman. Gripping under Giselle’s knees, he rose and pounded into her like a man lost and found. When her pussy clenched down like a vice grip around his dick and his name fell in a litany of prayers from her lips, only then did he let himself go.

  “Now, Giselle,” he groaned.

  But before he’d even finished his petition, her mouth was at his neck. Her fangs were buried in his vein. His blood was running down her throat. His body and soul came alive. Pure fucking euphoria bled hot and fast through him.

  He came. Hard.

  Mike threw his head back and roared. He emptied a lifetime of loneliness and longing and love into the female he would call his until the moment he took his last breath.

  As he eased over Giselle, their sweaty, replete bodies sticking together and their words of love echoing in each other’s ears, he realized something. He was content. And it wasn’t because of a vampire’s bite or the massive amounts of dopamine pumping him up. It was because of the woman currently wrapped up in him like duct tape. It was because he was finally where he was supposed to be.

  Mike had lived with regret his entire adult life. Fucking truckloads of it. It was a thick shackle clamped resolutely to his waist and, along with revenge, it was the one thing he never wanted to shuck. It was his burden to carry. He’d lived the last eleven years in sick, infected, willing martyrdom.

  Except now, both of those feelings were gone. No longer filled with hate and self-loathing, he felt blessedly light and free. Unencumbered.

  Yes, from the outside looking in, he and Giselle were unconventional. But his entire life had been, so why not this too? He still didn’t completely trust the rest of the bloodsuckers, but he ultimately realized evil was born, not bred.

  Humans, vampires, animals. They all had bad seeds, but that didn’t make the whole lot bad. So while he wouldn’t have willingly chosen this path because up until only moments ago he had been weighed down with two tons of isolation and anger, he had no regrets whatsoever at the unexpected and crazy turn his life had taken.

  Giselle purred contentedly into his chest, rousing an insatiable beast. Growing hard again, he grabbed her by the waist and draped her over him. Mouths welded together, without preamble, he slid inside her scorching heat once again.

  No. Mike had no regrets.

  Except…maybe one.

  10

  Giselle

  Vampires didn’t need sleep. Not really. Maybe an hour or two every night to stay refreshed, but they could really go weeks without any and still be highly functioning.

  That was one small favor for her kind, for her in particular. Giselle always hated to sleep. Sleep came with dreams and dreams in her case really meant horrific, realistic nightmares. So usually, she’d go as long as she could without nodding off. Once she went a record eighty-nine days. She was practically delirious, mindless with the need to recharge, but that had been in the early days after Dev saved her.

  In those days, even the simple act of blinking brought scenes of rape, breaths of torture, echoes of sobs.

  The carnage she’d brought upon her tormentors may have freed her body, but it hadn’t released the demons that plagued her in the slightest. She’d believed the slaying of their souls, the stain of their sins would quell the interminable screaming trapped in her head. It hadn’t. So she’d refused sleep until Ren actually forced her down through utter exhaustion.

  He must have known she teetered on the edge, ready to crumble any second, yet he never suggested she sleep. It would be pointless. Instead, he worked her harder the day she was ready to drop than he ever had before. Fourteen solid, nonstop hours.

  First came sprints, for hours, followed by a grueling weight lifting session before heading to the martial arts studio for kickboxing, Wing Chun, Aikido, Jiu-jitsu, Keysi, Krav Maga. You name it. They did it. In between sets was yoga to relax her muscles, meditation to focus her mind, and implement training to hone her already deadly skills.

  He worked her until she broke. Physically and mentally. Then he held her as she sobbed and sobbed until she couldn’t keep her eyes open another second. She slept for ten solid hours and when she woke, she was still in his arms. He’d stayed with her, protected her.

  They never spoke of that day. Not then. Not ever. The only thing he said before he left her room was, “I won’t let them have you, so we’ll do this as often as you need until you get that.”

  She’d never needed to be broken like that again, but for that first year she’d push herself to the edge of her limits and when she crashed, Ren somehow knew. And he was there. Could be that his room was next to hers and he heard her screams of terror. Could be the kinship they shared she could never quite explain. Whatever the reason, he knew she needed him and he was always, always there for her. She would fall into a fitful sleep alone; she always woke with him cradling her like a child. Then, when she was fully coherent, he would rise and silently walk away. And they would both ignore it when they saw each other later.

  Then one day it stopped.

  The nightmares faded.

  The suffocation eased.

  The other shoe never dropped.

  The warmth of Dev and Ren’s cocoon of acceptance and affection finally sank in and stuck, starting to melt the ice block her heart had become.

  She was finally part of a family. A real one. One that would lay down their lives to protect hers. Ren had worked his ass off, but he’d succeeded.

  Now it would be Mike Thatcher.

  Her detective.

  Her Fated.

  He would become her family, her protector.

  She’d rest peacefully in his arms at night knowing he’d defend her where it mattered most. Her very soul. The hatred surrounding him at the mere thought that horribly unspeakable things had been done to her burned her in the most ridiculously charming way.

  “You’re thinking awfully hard there, beautiful,” Mike’s gritty voice mumbled.

  When Giselle smiled against his pec, the predatory rumble in the back of his throat that vibrated through her made her slicker than an oil spill.

  It was eleven o’clock in the morning. She’d been lying in Mike’s arms for the last two hours listening to his slow, even breaths and relishing in the lazy rise and f
all of his chest under her cheek. Her Fated had been resting peacefully and she was loath to wake him again, but her body ached so damn bad she thought she was getting sick. She had been hibernating for over a hundred years and his impressive bedroom skills—and, more importantly, his unwavering love—had awoken a sleeping giant.

  She was like a rabid animal that escaped its cage. Now that she had a taste of freedom—and real freedom was sheer, mind-melting bliss—she was going to run wild. Mike was so in tune with her already he knew it. She’d lost count of how many times he’d been inside her the past eight hours. He was human but the male could fuck like a machine.

  “Do you need me again, baby?” he gruffed.

  “Yes,” she breathed heavily, almost in apology, clawing the sheets back that covered his hardening cock.

  “You’re trying to kill me.”

  Her Fated’s weak complaint morphed into a throaty groan when she straddled him and sank down, inch by long inch. She had no idea human males could be this well endowed. When she had him as deep as he would go, she started to slowly cant her hips, rolling and shifting until she had just the right rhythm.

  His neck arched, causing his head to sink farther into the fluffy pillows. She smiled when his eyes rolled in the back of his head. “Fuck, Giselle. Yes. Just like that, baby.” She whimpered when he hit a magical spot that made stars burst behind her lids and her lover moan.

  “You like that?” he panted. Gripping her hips hard, he thrust upward to meet each downward stroke of hers.

  “Uh huh,” she managed on a slight sob.

  “Take what you need, baby. It’s all yours. Everything I have is yours.”

  Her eyes, which had drifted shut, flew open and caught his piercing her, brimming with undeniable love. His intensity destroyed every defense she’d ever built to keep him out. With his taut, toned muscles bunching and heaving under her palms, she selfishly took. She shimmied her hips, her tempo gradually increasing until they were both sweaty and breathless. Mindless with the need to come.