Evading (Regent Vampire Lords Book 4)

by K. L. Kreig

  He’d woken her up this morning the way he wanted to for the next ten thousand mornings. Cock buried deep. Tongue in her mouth. Hands sweeping her lines and curves. “Now. I want to bond right now, Giselle,” he whispered softly against her sweaty cheek.

  She stiffened. As in, stiff as a goddamned two by four. He slowly levered on his forearms and gazed down at her terrified face. “Why are you acting like this? You agreed to this last night.” He tried to keep the anger from bleeding into his tone, but he failed. Epically.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking,” she replied with such confidence it pissed him off.

  “The fuck I don’t,” he spat. “I know exactly what I’m asking. I know exactly what I want, Giselle, and I’ve made that clear over and over, time and again that it’s you. But I’m getting the distinct feeling maybe this is just one-sided.”

  Frustrated, he pulled away from the warmth of her body and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her, head in his hands.

  “That’s not fair,” she said without inflection.

  On a snort, he droned, “Not fair? That’s rich. I’ll tell you what’s not fair, Giselle.” Over his shoulder, he threw words he knew would stoke her ever-burning flames into a raging inferno. “It’s that you’re too fucking scared to commit yourself to me for the rest of your life. That’s a long fucking time to be stuck with an asshole like me, isn’t it?”

  Yep. That did it.

  He felt the dip of the bed as she rose. “I am not scared, you fucking prick.”

  “Yeah?” He pushed himself up and stalked toward her. She was hastily trying to shove on her bra. He ripped it from her hands, throwing it across the room. “Then if you’re not scared,” he emphasized the taunt for good measure, “what is it, huh? My bank account too small? My house not extravagant enough? My human life too pathetic and humdrum?” Every jab drove him forward and her backward until she was pressed up between the bedroom wall and almost two hundred pounds of angry male.

  “Stop it,” she pleaded in a whisper.

  She was close to breaking. He felt it. He just needed to push a little more. He hated doing this to her, but it was the only way. He had to crack her open so he could finally see inside. Flattening his palms to the wall, he pressed his still-erect shaft into her naked, vulnerable body. Her stomach quivered, but her chin went up.

  He lowered his voice for maximum effect and started swinging the bat hard. “My blood not tasty enough for you? My cock not up to snuff? What’s the matter, baby?” With each caustic remark he made, he felt her blood heat and her heart crack. Delivering the final blow ripped him apart. “Is one lowly human not enough to satisfy the beast in Mrs. Hyde?”

  “Fuck you!” she screamed. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!”

  Giselle rarely used her superior strength against him, but this time, she didn’t hold back. Within a blink, he found their positions reversed and he was the one pinned to the wall.

  They’d done this the other night. After he’d stepped out of the shower, she’d pushed him against the bathroom door, dropped her robe seductively to the floor, and got herself off while giving him the best fucking blow job he’d ever had. He’d wanted to come inside her pussy, but when he’d tried pulling out of her hot little mouth, she put a hand to his stomach and easily held him there sucking until she savagely pulled the seed from his balls. It was the sexiest fucking thing he’d done.

  Only now, there was no seduction. There would be no cock sucking. No moans of pleasure. The way they were going there wouldn’t even be air.

  With his feet barely touching the ground, her stranglehold was only increasing, cutting off his oxygen. “What’s a matter?” he rasped, struggling for a lungful of life. “Hit a little too close to home, did I?”

  Oh, fuck. That did it. He felt her shatter. He was afraid to look down for fear he’d see the traitorous knife in his own hand and her bloody pieces at his feet. He was a fucking asshole for doing this. If it pushed her away he’d never forgive himself.

  “It’s not you,” she cried out. “It’s not you!”

  Hands on his knees, he sucked in a ragged breath—or five—when she let him go. He hated when she took a few steps back, away from him.

  “It’s me. Jesus,” she lamented, “that’s the oldest cliché known to mankind and I didn’t really mean it like that. Or maybe I did.” The last mumbled part nearly crushed him. He would be nothing without her. A ghost, a shell, a walking husk filled with blank space.

  She flopped in the easy chair in the corner of the room and just stared at him. Long. Hard. Sad. So goddamned sad, it crushed his heart.

  “I can’t have children.”

  And there it was.

  The excuse he felt coming.

  Her little announcement was so emotionless, it was almost as if she was reading a headline from the Sunday paper. But he knew better. She was hurting. She really expected this revelation would end them.

  Well, he had news for her. He already knew. Ren had some pretty enlightening info to share when they had their little bonding time and honestly, none of it made a fucking lick of anything to him, but Ren being Ren, was trying to protect Giselle. He respected that.

  The vampire explained a lot of things, actually. Things Giselle would be volcanic about if she found out. Now he knew it all. Oh, not the secrets she held tight to. That overprotective vamp would never divulge those, and it wasn’t his place to, but he now knew all the excuses she would use to refuse him. Every fucking one of them.

  The most revealing thing Ren told him, however, was just because he was her one and only didn’t mean he had to bond with her. He could say fuck it and walk. What no one seemed to get was he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

  “Then we’ll adopt, if that’s what you want.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like what, Giselle?” He slowly ate up the gap they had between them and knelt at her feet. “Listen, really listen to what I’ve been telling you. About how much I love you. About how nothing else about you matters than what I see right before me.”

  When water glassed her eyes and began streaming in little zigzag rivers down her face, he felt flayed, but continued on. They needed to do this. Old scabs needed to be reopened so he could sew them shut his way. Not with Steri-Strips, but real fucking stitches that took the wound with it when they finally dissolved.

  He looked up into her forlorn eyes and laid it all on the line. “I know a lot of things you think I don’t. I understand that vampires bond only with their human Moiras, their Fated mates and that I am your Fated. That to bond we exchange blood during sex. I’ll grow fangs. I’ll inherit your speed and strength, stamina, and skills. I’ll stop aging. I’ll be sustained by your blood and you by mine. My longevity is tied singularly to yours. As long as you live, so do I. You die, I die. But I die, and you die as well. I also know female vampires can’t bear children. I know all of this, Giselle, and I still choose us, because without you I’m a dead man walking anyway. I was lifeless before you came along and I will be again if you leave me.”

  Giselle’s hand now covered her mouth, stifling her sobs. “How…how do you know all this?”

  “Well,” he said gruffly while pushing to his feet. Lifting Giselle, he settled her on his lap. He literally sighed with relief when she melted into him and laid her head on his shoulder. This right here was perfection. “Let’s just say I have an informant on the inside.”

  “Who?”

  “Sorry. Guy code.” He lightly stroked her pale thigh. It felt like finely spun silk under the pads of his fingers. Against his will, he was growing hard again.

  “Ren,” she said flatly.

  When he didn’t reply, she tilted her head and captured his eyes. He was sap because all he could think to himself was he’d always be her willing captive. “It was him, wasn’t it?”

  “If that’s what you think you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

  “I have ways of making humans spill.” To prove her point she squirmed
against his erection, making him moan. Oh, the irony. It took him months to get her in his bed and now he could hardly get them out of it. And not that he was against it, but continual fucking didn’t allow for a lot of talking. And they needed to talk.

  “Giselle,” he groaned in denied agony. “I want you on my cock more than anything, but we need to talk.”

  “Sounds serious,” she whispered against his lips before giving him a soul-searching kiss. She didn’t have to search for it because it was already hers.

  “I’m going to see Jamie.”

  She froze, easing away slowly. Before she could get too far, he clamped down, holding her to him.

  “Before you freak out, it’s not what you’re thinking. I need to close this chapter in my life. For me. For us. Our pasts can never be erased, but I do think the slate can be wiped somewhat clean. Once the ink has touched that whiteboard, it will always linger, but it also fades until it becomes almost indistinguishable. So I choose to move ahead with you with a clean, ink-free slate. That is…if you’ll have me?”

  The corner of her mouth tried to kick up. “I will. I do…I just...” She takes in a deep, thoughtful breath and looks down at her lap as if she’s afraid to say the next part while looking at him. “Can I just have a little time?”

  He didn’t like that idea. The more time she put between them, the easier it would be for her to keep pushing them along, never committing, never purging, never really living. But if she needed it he’d give her a little rope. About half an inch is all. “Okay. How much time do you need?”

  Sweeping her gaze back to his, she said, “I don’t know really. I…I have something in my past I need to take care of, too.”

  He didn’t like the strange buzz he was getting from her. She was keeping something from him, and he had a goddamned good idea what it was. He also knew the vampire who cared for her like a sister was trying to erase Giselle’s board once and for all, unbeknownst to her. Ren was a good ally, a good male, and a good friend to Giselle—one he now had immeasurable respect for.

  “You really don’t care about the baby thing?”

  Cupping her cheek, he made sure she was looking straight into his eyes when he told her, “No. I don’t care. All I need is you, Giselle. But if somehow in the future we’re presented with a chance to become parents and it’s what we want, then we shouldn’t close our minds to it.”

  She nodded absently.

  “What else you got?”

  Her curved brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

  “It means what other excuses for not bonding are you gonna throw at me? Because I’m ready, so fucking bring them all on. Right now, so we can get them out of the way. I don’t want to have this conversation again.”

  “They’re not excuses, Mike. They’re real issues.”

  “Perception isn’t reality, baby.”

  “Mike,” she blew with exasperation.

  “Giselle,” he piped back.

  Picking her up, he repositioned her over his stiff shaft and let her sink down. She was so damn wet, she took his size with ease. They fit together like yin and yang.

  “Fuck, you feel good. Any other excuses you want to discuss?” he asked, thumbing her distended nipples. Rolling them between his forefinger and thumb, he got them nice and big before he closed his mouth around one.

  “No,” she moaned, arching into him.

  “Good. Tell me, baby, when we’re bonded will I be able to fuck you for days on end without my cock falling off?” Dragging his tongue along her goose-pebbled flesh, he made his way to the other nub. He could tell it felt neglected.

  When she laughed, it made her core tighten and the earlier release he’d been denied reared its head all too damn soon. “Yes.”

  “Then don’t take too long. I’m not very patient, you know.”

  Swiveling her hips, she held onto his shoulders for leverage. Then, using the strength in her thighs, she started riding him hard as he sucked the favorite spot on her neck. “I thought you said you were a patient man when you wanted something bad enough.”

  “I lied. I’m not fucking patient at all,” he panted against her.

  “Well, you’ll have a lot of time to learn that particular skill.”

  Tangling his fist in her hair, he pulled her down for a toe-curling kiss. His balls were so tight and drawn they screamed. He needed a release, but not before her. He practically tossed Giselle off him and with her hands now braced on his dresser and their gazes locked in the mirror, he drove back into her soaked channel so hard her feet lifted from the ground.

  “Will I, now?” he grunted.

  “Yes. Yes, you will.” She could hardly speak. He could barely think.

  “God, I fucking love you.” Knotting his hand through her golden locks once again, he pulled until her back was bowed and her mouth met his.

  “You do have a way with words, Detective,” she mumbled.

  “And with my cock.”

  “And with your cock. Always with your cock,” she admitted. A light laugh morphed into a gasp right before she cried his name and fell, taking him with her. When they’d ridden out every ounce of their orgasms together, he let his body blanket hers. Wrapping his arms around her, Mike planted a series of gentle kisses along her shoulder blades while he regained his senses.

  They were so damn close to the top of the stairs they’d been climbing for months now. So close to opening that next door and stepping through. But they had a few more steps to go. These would be toughest and steepest of them all.

  They both still had history to face, a yoke to sever. And letting your past go was never as easy as it sounded.

  16

  Ren

  Looking around, one would deduce they’d stumbled into a crack house, but they’d be wrong. The place Siobhan would meet his demise was a small below-ground room in an exclusive Miami sex club in Key Biscayne, an affluent part of the city.

  The gloomy, humid, windowless room stunk of piss, lost innocence, and shattered dreams. Stains of virtue, discarded condom wrappers, and used needles littered the fissured concrete floor. Mold grew in the cracks of the limestone walls, which held pleas of mercy and screams of terror. The corners were peppered with dried-up shells of insects caught in a different sort of web, one that had the same lethal edge as the young females who were tortured and defiled here. He wondered how many ghosts haunted this place, their souls trapped in perpetual torment from how violently they’d left this Earth.

  Getting into this club hadn’t been easy. Siobhan was a paranoid bastard and had this place spelled so no vamps could flash in and out—a trick Xavier had also used. Little did he know they also now had a witch in their pocket. It was no secret Damian and Giselle weren’t on the best of terms, so it took a lot of convincing and downright begging, but Ren finally got Damian to allow Analise to help them bypass the witchery so they could enter undetected. Against her wishes, Damian then sent her home while he waited for his part in this little setup.

  Siobhan was slippery, moving constantly, rarely staying in a community more than a few weeks. The only thing that had kept him alive all these years was he never returned to the same place. But they’d orchestrated a very special treat for him he wouldn’t be able to pass up. And that single error in judgment would cost him his life.

  Apparently Siobhan had a “type.” He liked them with fire and fight; he didn’t do broken ones. The younger the better. Stark blonde, alabaster skin, piercing blue eyes. Eerily like Elle, which was exactly how they’d lured him here tonight. With a Giselle replica.

  After all this time, after all the chasing and frustration, tonight was his night. Ren would eliminate this tainted waste of cells and blood and space, doing both vampires and humankind a service, a kindness. Because tonight they had a secret weapon they didn’t have before.

  Fucking Geoffrey.

  Ren couldn’t believe his luck. Geoffrey, a once-rogue vampire turned ally, was going to be the key to taking this depraved piece of shit out. Geof
frey’s skill of mimicry had recently saved the all-powerful Romaric’s ass, as well as that of his brother, Taiven, and tonight, Geoffrey would be the bait that lured a monster to his own fiery wedge of hell.

  A shiver of anticipation ran up his spine and settled in the form of a wicked grin on his face. He cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck around on his shoulders a couple of times to loosen his tense muscles.

  The weak, muffled cries of a young girl in the distance alerted him it was showtime. The “girl” would be brought in by her human handler. Ren would love nothing more than to slit his throat and let him bleed out nice and slow, but then the absence of the handler outside the door and the scent of blood would alert Siobhan something was off. He was already skittish; then they’d lose their one chance. So the human was getting a gift, really. He’d live, at least for now. Then, after they were done dispatching Siobhan, he’d carve the fucker up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

  The sound of metal clanging against metal and the twist of a key in the door signaled go-time. Per the plan, Ren flashed into the empty room next door and waited. When he heard the grate of heavy alloy against concrete and the snick of the lock being engaged, he reentered.

  According to their source, they had about three minutes until Siobhan arrived. After that, things would move quickly. He wished he could take his time, making the motherfucker suffer the way he’d made Elle and so many others suffer, but time was not a luxury they had. So the kill would be swift and sure.

  “Nice of you to join the party,” a low female voice rasped.

  Christ almighty, knowing this was Geoffrey but hearing an entirely different voice come out of a tiny, almost nude, beat-up female body was fucking unnerving. And leaving her (him) like this, uncovered and vulnerable, went against his every protective instinct.

  “You thought I was gonna leave you for dead, didn’t you?” he chuckled lightly forcing his eyes away. They kept their voices low to avoid attracting attention. Even though the rooms were supposedly soundproofed, he wasn’t taking any chances.