Blood Enemy: (Vampire Warrior Romance) (Kyn Book 3)

by Mina Carter

  He moved, pressing against her in an insistent movement. She moaned as her body parted around him, his cock sliding into her an inch. Then another. Her gaze locked with his as he pressed and pressed, forcing her to take him in a seductive, erotic invasion.

  He didn’t speak, not until he was buried in her to the hilt, her pussy stretched around him. Never had she felt this full, this stretched, during sex before. But then, every other man paled in comparison to Feral.

  Biting her lip, she shifted her hips and moaned as sensation shot through her. He had to be touching every nerve ending she had and it felt amazing. His answering groan filled the air a second before he pulled his hips back. Then he surged forward again to fill her completely.

  He didn’t pause this time, pulling back again. Each thrust and retreat was faster and harder, until the bed shook beneath them. Wrapping herself around him, she raked her nails down his broad back as he took her hard and fast. Each thrust felt like a celebration of life… they’d faced death itself in the Night Plains and they were still here. Still together.

  She felt… alive.

  A groan in the back of her throat, she moved against him, silently urging him to up his pace. He didn’t need prompting, his big body moving over hers with a power and grace that took her breath away. Each thrust ended with a roll of his hips that sent her eyes rolling into the back of her head with sheer pleasure. A wicked little roll that had the tension in her body spiking higher and higher until the soft gasps and moans that spilled from her lips were almost constant.

  Burying her face against his neck, she kissed along the strong column, reaching his ear. Temptation was too much and she nipped the lobe teasingly. He jerked, shoving his cock deeper and the deep guttural moan that was torn from his lips went straight to her clit.

  “Careful, love,” he warned, a deep, dangerous note in his voice she’d never heard before. One that made her squirm and gasp, almost ready to come on the spot. “Biting during sex is special for us. It’s an expression of love between bond-mates.”

  She wanted to ask what a bond-mate was but before she could get the words out, he’d moved again. Sliding a hand beneath her hips, he lifted her lower body as though she weighed nothing, pulling her up onto his knees. The new position made her gasp out loud as he thrust deep and hard, his cock pressing and rubbing inside her in ways that made her entire body shiver.

  The tension within her reached the breaking point, her movements uncoordinated as she pushed against him. She needed to come, again, as he filled her over and over. He eased back down over her, gathering her in his arms as his pace increased. Straining against him, their bodies moved in perfect concert until… finally… she hovered on the edge. Just for a second. The next heavy thrust of his cock sent her tumbling over. Heat and pleasure exploded outward through her body and she cried out…no, screamed… actually screamed her pleasure as her body convulsed and clenched around his.

  He groaned, his hold on her tightening, and then, if she’d thought his movements were hard before, they became brutal now. As the waves of pleasure cascaded through her body, he held her down and fucked her hard. His breath rasped in her ear as each hard slam sent mini-pleasure quakes through her. It didn’t last long though.

  Within a few strokes his arms tightened, and his breathing caught. A few more and his movements became uncoordinated, until… finally, he thrust into her one last time and came with a hoarse bellow.

  She held him close, stroking the back of his neck with her fingertips as her heart rate struggled to return to normal. Pleasurable aftershocks rolled through her body, sparked each time he moved.

  Lifting his head, he looked down at her, a soft smile playing at the corner of his lips as he smoothed the hair away from her face. “Pixies aren’t just great kissers… they’re great lovers as well.”

  Tessa was asleep on his chest, snoring softly. Feral smiled to himself, his arm tightening around her curvy waist. She’d fallen asleep sometime in the night after the third time he’d taken her, telling him she didn’t have the stamina of a vampire and needed her rest.

  He didn’t need sleep, not much of it, so the hour or so he’d gotten just before the sun had set was enough. Now he was wide awake but content as he lay with her in his arms.

  That was a new development. He wasn’t much for women. Sure, he liked them and he was as red-blooded and lusty as the next man, whatever the species. He was more a one-night stand sort of guy though. He didn’t do relationships… like ever.

  There had just been one maybe-sort-of thing he’d had years ago, when he was young and foolish. It hadn’t lasted long when her father had discovered his baby girl’s new man bore warrior’s marks. Since then, he’d kept his fucking limited to one-night deals. He didn’t even use the blood courtesans assigned to the warriors, preferring to keep his food and sex life separate.

  Biting was for lovers. He just fucked.

  Until Tessa.

  He lifted his hand off her waist to slide it through her hair. It was as soft as silk between his fingers and the memory of it brushing his thighs as she rode him had his cock hard in an instant.

  She was amazing. So sweet and giving, and way too good for him. He felt like the ravening brute he was at heart when he touched her, like his hands were too big and brutal to be granted such a boon. But for some reason she let him. More than that, she sought out his touch. Wanted it. Wanted him.

  His bigger frame and heavy muscles hadn’t put her off. In fact, she’d reacted with delight, exploring his body with soft hands until he’d pinned them above her head and claimed her all over again. And again, just to be sure.

  What had really hit him deep down was the way she’d traced his warrior’s marks, her expression sleepy and her touch gentle. There had been none of the fear or distaste a kyn woman would have shown. To them, he was a dinosaur. A relic from the past only good enough to keep rogue numbers down but avoided in high society. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the fact that their king, Marak, was also a warrior, Feral was sure the elder council would have declared them all rogue years ago.

  He’d gotten used to being treated as something less, so her easy acceptance of him and the way she looked at him—as though he were some kind of movie star, rock star and god all rolled into one—eased something deep in his soul that he hadn’t realized was broken.

  And he didn’t want to let her go.

  For a moment, he allowed the fantasy to fill his mind. Of her under him in his bed, her dark hair spread on his pillow or her on her knees in front of him as he drove into her sweet pussy. Of pulling her upright in front of him and sinking his fangs into her neck… drinking from her as he fucked her, her sweet body impaled by both his cock and his fangs.

  He groaned as his cock jerked savagely at the thought. She’d nipped him during sex without realizing what it meant for a kyn, and he’d been hard pressed not to pin her down and take her blood as he fucked her.

  The fantasy changed to coming home to Tessa after a hard night fighting the rogue and finding her waiting for him, all soft and warm. Of walking through the door, shedding his weapons and walking into her embrace before he picked her up and carried her into their bedroom. Of loving her all day, while the shutters kept out the sun and then sleeping with her in his arms. Of her smile as she turned to him, her belly rounded with his child…

  Fuck. He couldn’t let her go…

  He closed his eyes for a moment, an ache setting up in the center of his chest. He had to let her go. Pixies and kyn didn’t get on. Personally, he didn’t give a shit. He’d happily take her back home with him and people could just go fuck themselves if they had a problem with their relationship. But Tessa had family. Family that would no doubt be pissed if she moved in with a vampire.

  Enemies he could fight, but her family was a completely different matter.

  Turning her onto her back, he kissed along her neck and up to claim her lips, sensing her waking a moment before she began to kiss him back. If he only had her for a sho
rt period of time, he was going to make sure it counted…

  CHAPTER 9

  T hey were summoned later that evening.

  Feral walked with one arm around Tessa’s waist as she carried the baby. Talven, the captain of the knights who had rescued them on the plains, walked with them, but his manner was more stiff and formal than it had been yesterday. Feral slid him a sideways glance, easily picking up the fear and discomfort leeching from his pores. They were in the court and safe, so what did the elf have to fear?

  His gaze shot to the men around them, all as closed-faced as Talven. The stench of fear rising from them all got stronger the closer they got to their destination. Wariness rolled up his spine, all his warrior’s instincts warning him they were in danger. But he couldn’t see where or from what… He just knew the shit was about to hit the fan, in a big way.

  They reached the end of the corridor, the big double doors in front of them swinging open to allow their little group through into a palatial throne room. A palpable chill rolled over them as they walked and the atmosphere in the room went from one of safety to looming dread.

  The door swung shut behind them, trapping them inside with a sonorous clang.

  “Feral?” Tessa murmured as she edged closer.

  A tiny prickle crawled over the back of his neck, and he dropped his arm from her waist, freeing his hands up to go for his blades if he needed to.

  That was when he felt it. Something that shouldn’t have been here in the light and beauty of a place like this. Something that belonged in the shadows. Something that was hiding itself, like rot buried in an apple’s core.

  There was another blood drinker here.

  His senses on high alert, he scanned the room, eyes flitting from fae to fae, trying to isolate the source of the feeling. He might not be able to see through fae glamour as he’d previously thought, but some things just couldn’t be hidden from a vampire. The need for blood was one of them.

  His eyes narrowed as he assessed the feeling. No, it wasn’t quite the same feeling he got around other kyn. That was more a pleasant buzz against his mind…an awareness.

  This was harsher, more abrasive. Not awareness but more a warning like the feeling he got around Rogues, the extra unpleasant edge added by their taste for not just blood, but flesh as well. His face paled a little as he made the connection.

  It wasn’t just the rogues that liked blood and flesh… so did demonkind.

  “Well, I suppose I should thank you for bringing the brat to me. Finally,” a female voice broke the silence of the hall. A voice that would have been beautiful if not for the bitter note corrupting it. “However, you’ve caused me a lot of trouble so I don’t think I will.”

  The speaker rounded one of the columns flanking the walls, her venomous eyes fixed on the three of them. She was tiny, a slender wisp of a woman, with an almost childlike aura about her. The expression on her face was very much adult though. Bitterness, lust and arrogance all combined into a look that was uncomfortable to view.

  “God, no,” Tessa whispered as pixies emerged from the columns as well, fanning out behind their mistress. “It was you all along.”

  Feral slid her a sideways glance, confused. “Who is it?”

  “Ilia. She’s one of the Seven Sisters.”

  Feral grunted. Everyone knew about the Seven Sisters. The seven princesses of the fae, they were almost as powerful as Queen Mab herself.

  “Well, looks like the pixie bitch finally worked it out! Not the sharpest tool in the box are you, love?” Ilia commented scornfully. “Okay, I’m bored with this. Guards, seize them.”

  Tessa screamed as the fae surrounded them on one side, swords drawn, and the pixies on the other, wielding switchblades and daggers that glinted menacingly. She moved closer to Feral, instinctively looking to him for protection even though she knew they were sunk.

  A sense of disgust filled her. She was supposed to be a modern woman, yet at the first sign of trouble she was relying on a guy to look out for her. Her spine straightened as she shifted the baby more securely onto her hip. They were done for. There was no getting out of this one. Not just the two of them, against dozens.

  “I could learn to hate fae as much as pixies at this rate,” Feral growled, his blades on his hands in the blink of an eye. He moved, easily sliding into a guard position as he eyed the grim-faced men surrounding them.

  “Okay, which one of you wants to bleed out on the floor first?” he snarled. “More than enough for everyone, so if you’d like to form an orderly queue...” He lifted his hand and beckoned to the nearest pixie in a “bring it on” gesture.

  The pixie spluttered with rage, his face flushing as he raised his arm and charged. Feral didn’t move, waiting until they could practically smell the guy’s breath. When he did move, it was in an explosion of speed.

  Dropping to the floor, he swept a hard leg around at his opponent. The pixie hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him. Staying down, Feral rolled and used his body as a ramp to launch himself to his feet. His bladed knuckles buried themselves into the fallen pixie’s throat, shredding his windpipe beyond repair.

  Tessa fought like a madwoman not to get separated from either Feral or the baby, lashing out with her free hand and feet as two knights made to grab her. She became a wildcat, slippery as an eel, her heart pounding as she used all the self-defense moves she could remember from a course a couple of years ago.

  Shifting her weight, she drove an elbow into the ribs of the one behind her, stomping heavily on his foot at the same time. A satisfying “oomph” sounded behind her. Chainmail might look pretty and be effective against sharp pointy things, but when it came to determination and an expertly wielded elbow, it didn’t stop the wearer from getting winded.

  Without thinking, she reached for the hand at her throat, slender fingers dancing over the thick ones digging painfully into her flesh. Wincing, she grasped the little finger firmly and ripped it upward and away from the others in a quick jerk.

  It cracked, a sharp sound like a twig breaking underfoot that echoed in her ears. The sound was smoothed by a bellow of pain as he snatched his hands away from her. Wasting no time, Tess spun around and snapped her knee up to connect heavily with his groin. She might not be a martial arts expert, but there were some moves a woman just knew. A smile of satisfaction curved her lips as he crumpled to the floor, moaning.

  Her triumph didn’t last long. Something sharp and cold kissed the side of her neck and she froze. Despite never having felt the sensation before, she knew the business edge of a sword rested against her skin.

  The baby was ripped from her arms, crying as he reached out for her in terror. Hard hands closed over her upper arms and she was hauled, kicking and screaming, toward the woman who should have been their savior, but who had turned out to be the monster they were running from.

  “Why?” Tessa asked, as Ilia sauntered around her, an oasis of calm next to the bloody fight being waged mere feet away.

  The fae princess cocked an eyebrow, eyes glittering with malice. “Because I can. Because I’m fed up with all this fucking harm none, goody two-shoes crap. Why should I miss out because someone else says I shouldn’t do this, or that, or the other? What gives them the right to dictate what I can and can’t do?”

  Walking behind Tessa, she wound a small hand around her throat.

  “Okay, I’m really getting bored now.” She jerked Tessa’s chin up with a strength her frail body just shouldn’t have had. Her voice rose, carrying over the fight. “Enough, or she dies.”

  The fight was on in earnest. Feral spun and whirled like a prima ballerina on crack as he fought off several opponents at once. There was nothing like several someones seriously trying to put an end to a guy’s life to sharpen his senses and heighten his reaction time; and Feral had trained on the best circuit there was. Fighting the rogues, a slow kyn warrior was a dead one. One as old as Feral had to be fast. There was no other way around it. He dodged and weaved with all that s
peed, using his sheer size and the amount of damage he could suck up to his advantage.

  He fought with everything, not just the blades on his hands but with his whole body. A rolling, moving, whirling dervish, leaving violence in his wake. Elbows rammed into throats hard enough to crush larynxes, feet slammed into kneecaps hard enough to shatter them, or stomped on feet, fingers, or any other body part unfortunate enough to end up on the floor or within range.

  But quite possibly the worse weapon he had were his fangs. Fully extended in his rage, they were a fearsome sight. Razor sharp and dripping with blood as he took chunks out of anything that came close enough.

  He wasn’t going to win this, couldn’t win it. Despite the adrenaline of the fight surging through his veins, Feral could feel the exhaustion beating at him, leeching his strength. He needed to feed—and more than the random splashes of blood here and there when one of his opponents got too close to his fangs. Tiny tantalizing splashes of blood, fae blood, they practically hummed with power.

  “Enough, or she dies.”

  The room froze as Ilia’s voice cut through the mayhem. One moment, it was a writhing mass of violence, the next, a scene worthy of a medieval tapestry.

  Feral turned and froze. Ilia had Tessa held captive in her arms, her small hands around the pixie woman’s throat and her lips hovering close to the pulse Feral could see beating frantically.

  Every cell in his body froze as still as the death he could feel stalking the room. His gaze locked on the fae princess, on the small smile that played over her lips. He recognized the subtle warning…the silent message from one predator to another, something intended for him alone. Behave, or she would tear Tessa’s throat out. Bile rose along with his anger as he registered the excitement in her eyes at the impending kill.