by Donya Lynne
“Maybe he wants to make sure you’re safe.”
She shook her head. “I doubt it. He hasn’t cared about my well-being in years.”
Io stared at her lips as she spoke, and her gaze followed suit, dropping to his mouth.
“Well, rest assured that your well-being is in good hands here, Miri.” His hand caressed lower to the curve where her back met her bottom.
Oh, Io was definitely tempting Fate.
She inhaled as warmth cascaded through her body. “I’m where I want to be.”
The air crackled between them, but she remained still despite an unbelievable desire to kiss him again. Even if she wasn’t educated in the art of kissing, it didn’t diminish her excitement when she thought about his lips on hers. But she wanted him to come to her. She had liked how it felt for a male to throw caution to the wind as he had earlier.
Io was so close now, his body heat blending with hers to warm her. He leaned down.
“Give me five minutes?” His lips brushed her cheek beside her ear as he spoke.
Was he seducing her? Because if he was, he was damn good at it.
“Five minutes?”
“To shower,” he said. “Five minutes and I’m all yours for the rest of the day.”
Why did that sound so damned enticing? He would be all hers.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “And then I’ll comb your hair, and dry it….” His lips brushed gently over her eyebrow. “And I’ll take care of you.”
Miriam closed her eyes, his deep voice and the words he said making her feel decadent. But then he drifted away from her, and she opened her eyes to watch him grab a change of clothes from the dresser, step into the bathroom, and shut the door.
And I’ll take care of you, he had said. She exhaled, not even aware she had been holding her breath.
Something told Miriam that simple statement meant more than Io was willing to admit.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The muscles in Malek’s back clenched and his hips slapped hard into the woman he called Gina. For over an hour, he had fucked her with everything he had, and only now did his cock cooperate and let loose into the condom she had insisted he wear, even though he knew he couldn’t give her any diseases.
As a vampire, his blood was pure. Disease couldn’t live inside him, so there was no way he could pass any on to her. Still, he could get her pregnant, so the condom had been a good call, because the last thing Malek needed was to sire young. And just his luck, he would be that one vampire in ten thousand who could impregnate a human when he wasn’t in his calling.
Growling out a groan of relief and frustration, he thrust again then again, feeling the effects of the first orgasm he had allowed himself to have with another woman since….
His stomach lurched violently.
Like a shot from a gun, he yanked himself away and rushed to the bathroom before disgracing himself in front of her.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?” The woman hurried in after him, still naked, still looking not at all like the one he really needed…or the one he wanted, now that he took a good look.
He needed Gina, but he wanted Carmen. His sweet, perfect Carmen. Guilt ripped through him. What had he done? He had defiled Carmen’s memory by fucking this whore while fantasizing that she was Gina. He hated himself right now for his lack of self-control.
“I’m fine.” He avoided the woman’s eyes, wiped his mouth, and stood up before flushing the toilet. Then he bent down in front of the sink and turned on the faucet.
“Can I get you anything?” The woman was genuinely concerned, even though she didn’t have to be. She shouldn’t have been, because Malek wasn’t worth her worry.
“No. I’m fine.” Embarrassed and ashamed was what he was. Add to that a side of self-loathing and disgust, and he had a four-course meal of anguish to digest.
He scooped water to his mouth in the cup of his hand and sipped then swished the water around and spit it out before drinking more.
His long, black hair draped down on either side of his head, getting wet as the ends fell into the rush of water pouring from the faucet.
The woman hovered and Malek could feel her discomfort. He could see inside her thoughts and saw that she found him attractive, despite his gastrointestinal pyrotechnics. She wasn’t sure what to do. Should she stay? Go? Rub his back?
Just what he didn’t need: an admirer.
Before exiting her mind, Malek caught a further glimpse of her feelings for him. She was grateful for the way he had treated her. Unlike most of the men who bought her services, he had treated her with respect. She thought he had a heart.
If only she knew the truth. He had no heart. He had lost it a long time ago. Then Gina had come along, stirring his soul in a way only Carmen had so long before her. Malek slammed his eyes shut. No. He couldn’t acknowledge the way his heart had begun to open again when he met Gina. He refused to recognize how Gina had held him captive the moment he had laid eyes on her two weeks ago, and he certainly didn’t want to address the nagging questions about where she was now or whether or not she was okay. She was gone. As soon as Severin had forgiven her for what she had done, Tristan had released her. It was anyone’s guess where she was now.
No doubt her guilt over what she had done to Severin was eating her alive, but Malek didn’t want to think about that, because then he would go crazy wishing he could be with her to soothe her through the gnawing despair, because he knew the feeling all-too-well. He knew what it was like to feel lost and broken.
He had sensed disgrace in Gina before she left, as if she felt unworthy to continue living. She had thought she was avenging her brother by going after Sev, but once she had learned the truth—that Sev had been more-or-less framed by a jealous commander—she had been beside herself with grief. Gina prided herself on being the best. In her mind, she felt she had allowed herself to be duped, as if it was somehow her fault and she should have known better. The thought she had almost killed an innocent male had mortified her. She had even tried to get herself killed by faking her own escape attempt—an attempt Malek had barely prevented when Sev’s father, Lakota, had almost blown her head off.
God, he hoped Gina hadn’t done anything to hurt herself or worse now that she was out in the world, alone. If only he knew where she was, he could see her through this.
Once more, Malek smashed his eyelids closed, scrunching up his face. He couldn’t think like that. Gina had no place in his life. None. Only Carmen belonged in his heart.
“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” the woman said, breaking him from his thoughts.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” He stammered over his words, feeling helpless and breathless as he shut off the faucet, pushed himself up off the edge of the sink, and turned around before peeling off the condom and dropping it in the trash.
Dawn was about to break, and he could sense the woman’s fatigue. He had kept her here longer than he should have, but he hadn’t thought it would take so long for his body to release itself. Then again, he wasn’t used to being with women. Malek’s hand had been his only sexual partner for so long it was amazing he even remembered where his pecker went during intercourse.
He combed his wet fingers through his hair and glanced at her. “Look. You can stay here in one of the spare bedrooms if you like, or I can call you a cab. It’s up to you. I won’t hurt you if you stay.”
She licked her lips, obviously interested, but then shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I should go home. You look like you need some rest.”
Malek nodded and steadied himself as he walked weakly from the bathroom. “Okay, let me get your money.”
He opened a drawer and pulled out a leather pouch that looked like a bank deposit bag. After unzipping it, he pulled out ten one-hundred-dollar bills. Then he grabbed a few more for good measure.
“Here.” He handed the bills to her.
She frowned, realizing he had paid her more than he said he would. “What’s the extra for?”
“Okay, sure.” She smiled and folded the money into her fist.
“So, what’s your real name, anyway?” He didn’t want to call her Gina, anymore.
“Jess.” She smiled and blushed. “Well, Jessica, but everyone calls me Jess.”
“Jess? That’s a pretty name, Jess.”
“Thank you.”
He glanced away then back. “I’ll call you a cab. Feel free to grab a quick shower before you dress. I’ll make you breakfast while you get ready.”
She nodded and smiled again. Malek got the sense none of her other customers treated her so well. From the bits of thoughts he had snagged from her mind earlier, they probably didn’t.
A half-hour later, Jess was freshly showered, dressed, and had put away three scrambled eggs, two slices of toast and jam, and four sausage links. A honk out front signaled her cab was there.
Jess started down the front hall to the door while Malek stayed behind in the safety of his kitchen, where the sunlight wouldn’t hurt him once she opened the door. Suddenly, she stopped.
“Hey, if you ever need a date again, look me up, okay?”
“Thanks, Jess, but I think this was a one-time thing.” Malek met her gaze.
She sighed. “Oh well. You take care.”
“You, too.”
She hurried to the front door as if she was regretting her decision not to stay and felt that the sooner she got out, the better, so she wouldn’t be reminded of how she could have slept in a comfortable bed for at least one day.
The door opened and closed, and a minute later, Malek heard the cab drive away.
Yes, last night had been a one-time thing. He couldn’t let himself fall prey to his weakness like that again. From now on, he would go back to using only his hand when he felt the need to get off. No more women for him.
Uh-huh. Yeah, sure.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Apostle’s entire body itched and tingled from the scorpion venom he’d been injected with over the past several weeks. And clothes weren’t doing it for him. They hung off his starved body and the fabric felt like sandpaper on his raw, sensitive skin. He didn’t know how much weight he’d lost, but it was a lot, and he had to keep hiking up his pants, which aggravated the latest scorpion stings to make him itch even more.
He had already adopted the human form Bishop had chosen for him, but not even his changeling powers could overcome being so weak and emaciated. He would have to do some serious eating before he resembled the man in the photograph.
Apostle followed Bishop from the room where he had been kept since arriving, through the main hall toward the back of the sprawling ranch-style home, through an elegantly arched doorway that led into the living room. Large picture windows and a pair of glass double doors overlooked a rocky decline down into a valley. Finally they made their way through the kitchen to a locked, metal door past the laundry room.
“I’ve made some changes since the last time you were here,” Bishop said, unlocking the door and pulling it open.
It had been years since Apostle had seen the laboratory and production facility built beneath Bishop’s home.
“Such as…?” Apostle wanted to know what he was in for, especially if he was expected to take Deacon’s place at the helm of the operation.
Bishop casually descended the stairs, puffing away on that goddamn cigarette of his like it was his lover.
“The experiments we’re conducting now required the construction of holding cells.”
“Holding cells?” Apostle’s brow wrinkled into an inquisitive frown.
“Yes.” Bishop kept a steady pace, his eyes straight ahead.
“Why do you need holding cells?” But Apostle was beginning to get the gist of what types of experiments Bishop and Deacon had been running here.
Based on the two pictures—a before and after?—of the man whose form Apostle had now adopted, and on what Bishop had said about using the vampires’ own kind against them, Apostle suspected his twin and Bishop had been working on some kind of biological experiment.
“Who do you keep in the holding cells?” Apostle stopped behind Bishop on the landing in front of another metal door.
“See for yourself.” Bishop pulled the door open and stepped aside.
Apostle walked into a giant beehive of activity. Drecks in both shifted and unshifted form worked at lab tables, wearing white coats, plastic gloves, and goggles. Some even wore masks.
Along both side walls were ten-by-ten rooms with steel-reinforced Plexiglas fronts, and inside each small cell was a vampire. Some paced, some slept, and still others screamed at the top of their lungs over and over again, their faces a display of agony.
“What are you doing to them?” Apostle walked toward the cells on the left.
“Some we are training. Others we are using for analysis and study.” Bishop stopped in front of one cell with a particularly large vampire inside. The tag on the door read Maddox. Maddox was a big fucker, with long, dark hair and dull, lifeless eyes. “And still others we are using for gene splicing.” Bishop’s lips quirked into a lusty grin as he stared at Maddox, who sat in the corner of his small cell, staring at nothing and everything, unmoving and unmoved.
“Who is he?” Apostle noticed how Bishop gazed at the naked male who seemed not to care—or even know—where he was.
“Our future.”
Apostle frowned, not understanding. Clearly, Bishop had special plans for this one.
“Where did he come from?”
Bishop took a deep, wistful breath and finally began walking down the row of cells again. “I bought him.”
Fucking hell, getting information out of Bishop was like trying to milk a bull. “From whom?”
“A pair of business associates.” Bishop hesitated to watch as a one of the lab assistants approached a cell with a syringe of cobalt.
The vampire inside, who had been one of the shriekers, quieted and perked up, shooting forward and staring at the syringe of blue liquid. The vampire licked his lips and pushed his arm through a small opening in the thick Plexiglas after the lab assistant unlocked and opened it.
“We usually pick up those who are buying from our dealers,” Bishop said quietly, standing aside so Apostle could watch. “We make junkies out of them. This one…” Bishop gestured toward the vampire inside the cell, “…is a mongrel. He’s almost ready for phase two of his…training.”
Apostle had no idea what phase two was, or what Bishop meant by training, but he was sure he would find out soon enough. In the meantime, he watched as the mongrel was injected and fell into the characteristic convulsions associated with cobalt use. In a matter of seconds, the vampire had fallen to the floor, twitching uncontrollably, a smile on his face and sweat pouring out his body.
Whatever Bishop had planned for these vampires and mixed-bloods, it was big. That much was obvious.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Io was in and out of the bathroom in record time. Took him all of five minutes to shower, brush his teeth, and put on flannel pants and a T-shirt.
The idea of being away from Miriam, even if he was only in the next room, urged him to rush.
Had he heard her right a few minutes ago? Had she really said no male had ever touched her the way he had? And if so, what exactly did that mean? Was Miriam a virgin? On one hand, he couldn’t believe a female that exquisite had never taken a lover, but on the other, she had a point about her father. Most people, male and female alike, cowered at mention of King Bain. Her being a virgin made sense considering everything he already knew.
Maybe he was crazy for being so candid with Miriam. Maybe he would find himself at the receiving end of a knife to the heart for his cavalier behavior where she was concerned. But one day with her was worth it.
Io couldn’t explain what drove him. He only knew th
at he had to know Miriam better. He had to take this one opportunity to simply exist in her presence, if only for a day.
No female had ever drawn his attention like she did. Usually, he took what he wanted from those willing to give it then he never looked back. Oh, sure, he occasionally double-dipped and took the same women again as his whim dictated, but what he felt for Miriam was different. She was different. Miriam was at once strong-willed as well as innocent. Something in her eyes and body language told him that much. This made her infinitely more interesting than some girl he’d picked up at a bar with her legs already half open and her hand massaging his crotch.
Io opened the door to the bedroom and shut off the bathroom light, holding his hair dryer in his hand.
Miriam was sitting on the edge of the bed, running the comb through her hair.
“You ready?” he said.
She glanced down at the hair dryer and smiled. “You’re seriously going to dry my hair?”
Hadn’t he made that point perfectly clear only a few minutes earlier? “That was the plan.” He plugged the hair dryer in then stood beside her.
“You really have a death wish, don’t you?” She looked up at him through her lashes, her cheeks flushed. “If my father could see me now, he’d blow a circuit.”
“And that thrills you, doesn’t it?” Io took the comb from her hands and sat down beside her.
“What do you mean?” Miriam’s sapphire blue eyes pierced him as she glanced over her shoulder.
He chuckled. “Something tells me you don’t like following orders.”
“I follow orders just fine.” Her chin jutted out with coquettish flair.
“Whose? His or your own?” Io lifted one eyebrow as if challenging her.
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t reply, her demeanor suddenly growing cold.
Ah, so there it was. Her trigger.
“Is that why you use?” Io said, speaking in measured syllables, his voice quiet as he ran the comb through the ends of her hair to loosen the tangles she had already started working on. “Or does your father typically allow cobalt use in the royal home?” He was wrecking the mood, but he needed to get her talking about her addiction, or at least thinking about it. He didn’t have much time with her, and if he was going to help her, he had to dig, and if that meant pissing her off, oh well.