It had happened. She had given her virginity to some high school boy who had no idea what a precious female he held. And she had glowed with it.
It had been all he could stand not to kill the boy she had been dating then.
But there had been no lovers in his house. Not once.
He didn’t know if he could have allowed it, but she had never even tried.
He wasn’t being fair to her. She climaxed with a soft, muffled wail, while he stared hungrily at her sweet, exposed butt and watched as she rolled onto her back and continued to play with herself, obviously not satisfied. She took the vibrator in her hand and started to drive it deep, her eyes glassy and wild as she used her other hand to stroke her clit.
He tore himself away and reformed to his mortal self inside the hall and walked away.
He wasn’t being fair.
Chapter Three
“You’re what?” Kit asked, almost soundlessly. She cleared her throat and spoke again, only slightly louder. Byron was sitting at his desk, looking for all the world like an upper-class businessman. He was wearing a white silk shirt, a black vest, unbuttoned, and a pair of black, trim-fitting pants. His hair would look ridiculous on some men—like a man trying to follow the trends—the way he kept it cut brutally short on the lower sides and the back, letting it fall long on the top and upper sides. Kit loved his hair, loved how thick and soft it looked, loved the midnight blackness of it. She knew his feet were bare and she knew he couldn’t do a damn thing with a computer. She did that for him, but he was a fucking genius when it came to mathematics, and he ran a small empire from this little enclave.
He was the youngest Hunter in America, and the youngest Master with his own enclave. There had been others in history, but they hadn’t lasted long. So far, Byron had not only lasted, but thrived. He dismissed those facts as he dismissed his wealth, attributing it to luck.
Byron was more than a Hunter, even if he didn’t acknowledge that.
Kit knew it even if he didn’t. Byron was amazing. And together, they could be more so. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to share his life with her. He didn’t want her.
He was sending her away.
“It’s time you go to France and find out more about your mother’s people,” he said, forcing himself to ignore the wild pain in her eyes.
“You’re sending me away.”
“I’m not sending you away, Kit,” he said quietly. “It’s for two years.”
“You are,” she argued, keeping her voice level. He wasn’t going to appreciate another wailing, sniveling female. She couldn’t stop the pain from showing, but she’d be damned if she cried. “You’re sending me away, just like the rest. But I haven’t done anything.”
“No,” he agreed. “You haven’t done anything. It’s France, Katrine. Don’t you want to see France? And Russia, where your father came from? Doesn’t that matter?”
Not unless you are with me, she thought. She just stared at him, bleeding inside. Finally, through her tight throat, she asked, “Why?”
Byron stared at her and said nothing.
She swallowed, the sound horribly loud in the silence of the room. Her body felt terribly bruised and battered—strange. All she had done was walk in here and stand in front of the desk for a mere three minutes. And her whole life had just been irrevocably changed.
She turned and slowly walked away.
“Fuck,” she heard him say quietly. “You’ve never been anywhere else, sweet. You have to go see other things, try other things before you commit yourself to my world.”
“I’ve committed myself to this world already, Byron. Or have you forgotten?” she asked wearily.
He hadn’t, no. How could he forget the delirious, shameful pleasure that had filled him when she had petitioned the Council to join his Enclave, to join his world? It had given him the right to keep her, for always. But Byron knew he really didn’t have that right, because of the promise he had made to her father. He shouldn’t have agreed to take her in. But if he hadn’t, she would have been sent to another Hunter.
“Kit, you don’t belong here.”
She laughed—a horrible, wild sound that echoed through the room and it made them both wince. “Yes, I do,” she said. And then she left.
Byron felt shaken to his soul. He had never seen her eyes look quite that empty. Damn it, it was France. For a year. Then Russia. Another year. Then she was coming back. He’d damn well see to that. She didn’t truly think he’d let her leave him forever, did she?
She’d go, experience a little more of life than she could here, and then, when she returned, he’d—
Fuck, what in the hell was going on? Byron paced the room, hungry, mad, furious with himself and with her. She had looked so hurt, so unlike Kit.
He left his office for his rooms, ignoring Ben, the Inherent who lived with him, and Mathias, the vampire who served as his third in command, under Kit. All were under Kit. Kit was the only one he trusted with everything, and he had to send her away. Damn it all to hell and back, he thought furiously.
Byron tore off his fine clothes and donned tougher, darker clothes that would blend with the night as he hunted. He was a young Hunter and though he was strong, he wasn’t as arrogant as some. He wasn’t going to trust only his vampire abilities to save him. He knew how to fight, and he trained regularly. He made sure all his people did as well, in case anyone ever tried to bring a battle onto his territory.
He wanted a bloody fight tonight and he doubted hunting was a wise choice. He should, if he was smart, find Eli and just have a bloody brawl.
But Byron took to the woods and went searching for prey. He had set up his territory in a wooded area, buying enough land to provide himself and the wolves some privacy, but keeping them close to the city so he could hunt easily. He had known his duty was to keep his chosen prey near by.
As always, he found it in Chicago. This, of course, was why he had chosen it as his territory. Even in his former life, this had been a large city and trouble had always been brewing. A few decades had not changed that. The method of madness had changed. More guns and drugs now, instead of fistfights and alcohol, but it was there.
He found his preferred prey in a rough neighborhood. They had been stalking a pretty young girl in a nurse’s uniform who was now fighting wildly against the two men who held her. There was a third, and Byron waited until the third had moved a little closer before he reformed and moved in, taking the man’s neck and snapping it like a twig before catching another in a mental hold and freezing him.
The third one hadn’t realized what was going on until the girl took off running. He started to go after her when Byron caught him and threw him against the wall with his inhuman strength. The blow caused the man’s head to split and start to bleed while Byron stared down into the man’s dazed eyes. “She doesn’t want to play, my friend,” he crooned, catching the man’s head and jerking it to the side before he struck. He took only a little, enough to establish a mental connection while he laid a path.
The next time this bastard tried to prey on any creature, it would be his last. If he faltered in any way, it would lead Byron back to him. Drawing back, staring into his eyes, Byron promised, “I will know. And I will kill you,” he promised roughly, a tiny drop of blood on his lower lip.
Then he turned to the third man. Because this one was already dead. He was the girl’s brother. She had gone to the police about her brother—she suspected he had something to do with another girl’s rape and murder. She’d been right—Byron saw that before he even touched the man’s mind. But she’d not been careful enough and her brother had found out.
This would have been her last night on this earth.
Byron smiled seductively, even pleasantly at the younger man, stroking his face as he listened and made sure the girl was far away. “A brave girl, your sister. She’ll prosper now. I’ll make certain. Ah, Max, isn’t it? Your sister is about to come into some money and she will find her way out of
this hellhole, as you like to call it. I want you to know that, to know she will live a long and prosperous life.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Max tried to snarl. Not very effectively, since he was all but whimpering with fear.
The vampire flashed his fangs. Max tried to scream, but Byron pressed his thumb against his windpipe and cut off his air supply. Max was trying to tell his body to run, but Byron had already taken control of his mind and the human couldn’t move. “Why are you doing this?”
“Remember the girl you raped?” Byron murmured, pushing Max into the shadows, listening for any sign of another watching. “She was young, wasn’t she? Just a child, really. All that youth and innocence, and you destroyed it. What is that saying? Oh, yes. Payback is a bitch.” Byron took the memories that Max had been relishing and turned them back on him, only now, Max was in the girl’s position and he experienced the horror. Byron’s psychic skill wasn’t enough to make him actually suffer as much as the girl did, but he made sure the pathetic piece of scum had some inkling before he broke the link and grabbed him up from where he had fallen on the ground.
“Now do you know why?” Byron purred menacingly. “Do you know why I am going to kill you? You stalked and killed a child and would have done the same to your own blood.”
“You can’t just fucking kill me,” Max sobbed.
Byron laughed. “Yes, I can.” He wasn’t even going to feed here. He reached in with his mental hands, grabbed the man’s mind and crushed it, watching pitilessly as blood started to trickle and flood from the man’s eyes, ears and nose. He heard pounding footsteps and he knew company was coming.
He watched and waited until the last breath shuddered out, and then he let his mental grip go and the corpse fell at his feet.
Then he shifted and the mist drifted up and away as people started coming out to investigate the noise.
He was tired when he returned to the house, though it wasn’t even midnight. It had been an easy night as far as hunting goes. Sometimes, he was given an assignment, like the feral. Other nights, he just trolled, looking for scum like those he had found tonight.
Normally, on a night such as this he would have gone for more, but he was too fucking tired, and he knew it wasn’t the hunt.
It was Kit.
He could even smell her, the sweet, intoxicating scent of the soap he ordered for her directly from England. She went through bottles of it, then after she climbed from the bath, she would smooth oil onto her wet body, and her scent always lingered—
She was in his bed.
Naked.
It was not an odd thing for him to find a naked woman in his bed.
But a naked Kit, that was odd.
“Have a nice hunt?” she asked, her voice rough, soft, her eyes chilly.
“Kit—”
She pushed onto her knees and lifted a finger to her mouth. Then she trailed that finger down her body to trace over one nipple, then down her slim, golden torso before sliding through her naked folds.
“Damn it, Kit, don’t.” Byron stared at her hand, at the naked folds of her sex. She had waxed. The soft curls he had nuzzled the last time were gone, and the plump lips were naked and smooth. He could smell her over the distance that separated them, wet and hot, and still angry.
“Why not? You’re sending me away, that’s what you do with a woman, once you sleep with her. Eventually. Only I haven’t had that pleasure, so why not?” she asked, moving around again, this time to lie on her back, knees bent. “Won’t you give me just one night, Byron? Just one?”
His jaws ached and throbbed in time with his cock as he watched her start to stroke herself, her slim little fingers rubbing her wet, swollen clit until she was rocking her hips and moaning weakly in time with her movements. “I’m not sending you away,” he rasped, haltingly taking a step closer.
“Come and play, Byron,” she teased.
He moved closer, following the movement of her fingers, drawn by the scent of her body. Damn it, he loved her. He wanted her. He had for years, but this was Kit, Kris’s little girl, and he had promised to take care of her, not fuck her like she was some whore.
This was Kit. Not any other woman. She wasn’t for fucking.
“Come on,” she cajoled. Her lashes fluttered closed and she whimpered when he rested one knee on the bed and brushed her hand aside, replacing it with his, lowering his head to catch one large, dark nipple in his mouth. She had large breasts, especially for a woman as tiny as she was, with big, dark nipples that always seemed to be erect. He bit down carefully, and groaned when she cried out and pressed harder against him and he started to pump two fingers in and out of her wet sheath.
Damn it, he couldn’t fight this any more.
He sat up briefly, jerking his clothes off, before covering her and using his thighs to open hers. She brushed her hair aside, baring her neck, and Byron shuddered at the simplicity of the gesture as he licked her, sucking the fragile skin deep into his mouth. He started to enter her, probing the hot, wet entrance to her core, his body tensed and aching. She was tighter than he had expected. As he pushed the first two inches inside, her snug, silky little pussy convulsed around him and Byron groaned as she arched up, taking him slightly deeper.
Much tighter, but she was wet and creamy around him and her pulse beat madly against his mouth. Byron was so fucking hungry for her—for her sex and her blood. He drove deep, his fangs breaking through her skin just as his cock tunneled through her tight wet passage while she screamed in surprised pain at his rough invasion.
Kit, he reached out, touched her mind, felt her surprise—the pain, the shock, the need—as he drew one of her knees up over his hip, shuddering at the sweet, wet grip of her virgin pussy around his cock. Her blood rolled down his throat, ripe, powerful, rich. Kit, why didn’t you tell me?
“Why? So you could turn me down?” she asked bitterly.
I don’t think I could have, not any longer, he answered, a groan vibrating up from his chest. She felt the vibration of it through her neck as it shuddered down her chest, tightening her nipples, and pooling hot in her belly. He pulled his cock out, then surged back in, one big hand cupping the cheek of her ass lovingly. So sweet, Kit. So tight.
He pulled reluctantly away from her neck, licking away the drops of blood before leaning down, wanting to kiss her, but settling for rubbing his cheek to hers. He was surprised when she sought his mouth, surprised when the lingering taste of blood didn’t bother her. He started to pump his shaft inside her, loving the way she hugged his cock—tight, wet, snug, and only his. She rocked up to meet him, eagerly, hungrily, and he slammed into her harder, control forgotten. He moved and shifted her so that he could reach her clit and play with it while he fucked her. He felt her response when she cried out, the vibrations reaching down through her body and up through his cock, spreading over him, tightening his balls, heating his blood until he was certain his entire body would go up into sweet, hot flame.
Her bud was slick and swollen and hard. Byron shuddered as he pushed back inside her, keeping one hand on her thigh, holding it high, and open, watching as he drove in, almost hypnotized by the erotic sight of his own cock invading the wet little cleft. He couldn’t tear his gaze away as he pulled out—the flesh wet and gleaming from her cream—then pushed back between those plumps lips. The smooth flesh of her naked mound taunted him and he left her clit briefly to stroke the smooth lips, his gaze traveling her sweetly curved little body to meet her eyes as she moaned and reached for him.
Byron bent over her and caught her seeking hands, pinning them high over her head. “Are you mine tonight?” he asked her gutturally, driving deep inside the wet clasp of her pussy, feeling his orgasm rushing up. He had wanted her for too long and he couldn’t fight this. “Are you staying with me all night?”
“I’ve been yours for years, you idiot. I’ll be yours for always, if you’ll just open your eyes,” she hissed, her eyes blind and dazed as she lifted her head and tried to catch his mouth. He
let her and shuddered as she sucked his tongue into her mouth greedily, biting down gently and wrapping her strong legs around his hips as he shafted her virgin body roughly. He kept her hands pinned with one of his and slid the other down, palming her tight little ass and lifting her higher against him, moving harder, more roughly into her as she started to convulse around him. The satin confines of her pussy tightened around him, growing wetter and hotter, until she started to come.
He swallowed her scream and pumped her full of his come, before he let his body fall briefly to rest on top of hers.
But only briefly.
Then he was carrying her into the bathroom, into the shower, where he started to soap her clean. He knelt in front of her, holding the hand-held nozzle, while the double wall-mounted sprays pounded them from both sides as he lifted her. Holding her weight in his hands easily, he admired the naked mound she had prepared for him. “Always teasing me, Kit,” he murmured as he nuzzled the sweet little mound. He slid his tongue through her folds and then he lifted his face and looked up at her, water beading on his lashes. “Open yourself up, baby,” he whispered.
He watched her swallow nervously and then her hands moved and she did it. Using both hands to spread the plump lips of her sex, she exposed the swollen bud of her clit. Byron turned the hot, massaging spray on her, grinning hotly as the sound of her wails echoed off the walls. He had dreamed of doing just this to her, for years.
Always teasing him, he had told her. She had loved to use his shower, even after he installed a similar one for her. He had walked into his bathroom once, thinking one of the human girls was in there. He had every intention of joining whoever he heard moaning so sweetly.
Kit had only just turned eighteen—he had known she had been experimenting, but how was he to know she had been masturbating in his fucking bathroom? She had been using the massaging showerhead on her clit and screamed in hoarse pleasure while Byron stood frozen, shocked, aroused, and hungry. She had opened her eyes, but instead of being embarrassed, the way an eighteen-year-old should have been, she had grinned at him, hot and sweet and inviting.
The Hunters: Byron and Kit Page 2