Reyna's Vampyr

by Zena Wynn

  You wouldn’t dare. Her mental voice was stronger.

  Wouldn’t I? Do you really want to take that chance?

  There was a long pause.

  Reyna?

  I don’t remember how. The words were sighed in his mind.

  He grinned, knowing he could help her with this. Focus, Reyna. Picture what you want. Instinct will do the rest.

  What if I’m not strong enough?

  You will. He didn’t know why, but she used less energy bringing objects to herself than teleporting her body to another location. Reyna used to bring toys, food, and her favorite person—him—to herself until Isabella, her mother, discovered what she was doing. Fear for Reyna’s safety forced Isabella to make her stop, to hide what she could do. He hadn’t agreed then and didn’t now.

  While he understood and shared Isabella’s concerns, had she allowed Reyna to be herself and all it entailed, she’d be a stronger, more powerful, confident woman. One not easily destroyed by those who considered her an abomination and would see her life forfeited. Instead, she’d been taught to fear and despise who she was and what she could do. While her will was strong, Reyna was operating from a position rife with insecurity. Not the best position to be in with foes willing to exploit your every weakness.

  A tingling began in his extremities, spreading rapidly inward. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the sensation, knowing from experience if he didn’t fight, the process went faster and was easier on Reyna.

  When he looked, he found himself in a small cave. Her feline had good instincts. From the lack of trees near the opening, it appeared to be fairly high up in the mountain. His sensitive nostrils picked up the scent of water nearby. Judging by the angle, the opening wasn’t easy to see from the ground. It was a good place to seek refuge.

  Reyna, still in cat form, lay at his feet, panting and struggling for breath. A trail of blood streamed from the entrance to the dark corner where she must have collapsed, and she lay in a growing puddle of blood. There were deep claw marks on her flanks, and jagged rips and tears along the back of her neck and throat.

  She must have run across a male—or several by the looks of her. Drawn by her heat, they would have been in a frenzy to mount her, both shifters and mountain lions—the earth ones. In a Felini’s cat form, even the animals couldn’t distinguish the difference. She was lucky to have gotten away. Something for which he knew he had Tariq to thank. A female during her first shift was normally as weak as a kitten, and definitely not strong enough to fight off males in their prime.

  As he crouched at her side, he realized he was naked and in animal form. Bad kitty, he sent the thought to her, although he was the one who’d told her to visualize what she wanted. He shifted to human before the scent of Reyna’s estrous could agitate his cat.

  “Reyna, shift so you can feed.”

  Tired.

  “I know, kitten, but you’ll feel better real soon. Come on, now; change back. Don’t I smell good?” He shoved his wrist under her nose. “Dinner’s just a bite away.” As far as he knew, Reyna couldn’t feed in this form.

  Slowly but seamlessly, the fur receded from her body until she lay naked before him, her only covering the blood still seeping from her wounds.

  “Good girl. Now feed so I can heal you.” He lifted Reyna off the ground, settled her in his lap, and held his wrist to her mouth.

  She shoved it away. Throat.

  Jorlan’s left eyebrow shot up toward his hairline. This was new. He readjusted her position so she straddled him, enabling her to reach his neck easier and keep him from straining to hold it at an awkward angle. When her arms proved too heavy for her to lift, he cupped the back of her head and leaned down, pulling her mouth against his throat.

  Reyna licked once, twice.

  Jorlan hissed as her fangs sank deep and arousal shot straight to his cock. Feeding her had never affected him this way. Since childhood, she’d never fed from anyone else. Not even Isabella had given her blood. Reyna was like a beloved younger sister. No, more like the child he’d yet to sire.

  Between her heat and the eroticism of her bite, only his familial love for her kept him from taking her to the ground and fucking her. This new feeling of lust for Reyna shocked and appalled him.

  Reyna moaned and her arms came up to encircle his shoulders. One hand rose to stroke his hair and the other draped loosely around him. The enticing scent of her cream drifted to his nostrils, saturated with Felini pheromones. His cat, recognizing the mating call, roared in him and tried to rise to the surface. He viciously shoved it down.

  While he was busy subduing his alter ego, Reyna began to undulate against him. She lined her slit up with his cock and rubbed, up and down, in an agonizingly slow rhythm. The hard peaks of her breasts scraped back and forth across his chest. Even her sucking became more sensuous, more arousing. Something he didn’t think possible.

  He pinned her body against the wall in an attempt to hold her still. “Reyna, you’re killing me.”

  Fuck me, Jorlan. She ground against him. I need.

  He groaned and sent up a prayer for help.

  Reyna was a mature Felini female in the throes of her first estrous and his DNA was programmed to provide the relief she needed.

  

  A groomed, more composed Tariq sat on his mahogany throne, legs outstretched, fingers steepled together. Only the tick near his right eyebrow and the hard gleam in his eyes betrayed his mounting frustration as his men ran in and out, rendering reports on their progress, or lack thereof. The emotional link to his Heart’s Blood had hit a dead zone, as it were, and Tariq was once again in full possession of his mental faculties.

  This whole thing was puzzling the hell out of him, the way she was there one moment, gone the next. In all of his centuries of living he’d never heard of anything like it. He kept searching inwardly, hoping for a trail—something, anything—to pinpoint her location. There was nothing, not even the faintest hint of her life-force seeped through.

  He didn’t know her name, where she lived, or where she worked. He didn’t know if she was human or something more. All he knew was that she’d been a virgin and being with her had given him a satisfaction he’d never before felt.

  In his centuries of living, he’d loved and been loved by many woman. He’d cherished them as men of his species were taught to do and enjoyed every minute of time they’d spent together. However, his Heart’s Blood was the one woman who could complete him as no other had. Now that he’d experienced the emotional and physical satisfaction their bond produced, he couldn’t go on without her by his side.

  Tariq held himself motionless as a helpless fury raged inside. Knowing his Heart’s Blood had run from him was bad enough, but now he had to face the fact that his woman, the very beat of his heart, was being held, tortured—raped?—and with all the power and resources available to him, he couldn’t find her. Couldn’t rescue her.

  He was idly contemplating the toe of his black, heavy-duty combat boots, wondering if he started kicking some ass if it would grant him better results when someone cleared their throat. “Speak,” he growled.

  “Master, High Lord Alvaro is here to see you.”

  Alvaro, High Lord Master of the Western Domain and prince of one of the ruling houses on Vampalien, rarely came out of seclusion. Tariq slowly raised his gaze to pin the fledgling where he stood. “And why is one of our greatest nobles still waiting outside?”

  Even though his tone was mild, the fledgling flinched and rushed to go get him. Tariq rose gracefully to his feet and left the platform to greet Alvaro as he entered the room.

  “Brother, it’s been too long.” Tariq reached out his hand and clasped Alvaro’s left forearm. They bumped shoulders and clapped each other on the back in a warrior’s embrace. Shoving his concern for his woman temporarily aside, he dredged up a smile for his friend that he had not seen in too many years to count.

  Alvaro grinned broadly. “Tariq, good to see you. You haven’t change
d much.” Word of your dilemma reached me. I’ve come to offer my assistance, he stated on their private pathway forged from shared blood and battles.

  “Wish I could say the same,” Tariq teased. “Although white becomes you. This must fool many into believing you wise,” he taunted as he flicked a lock of Alvaro’s shoulder length, pure white hair. Any help you can provide will be greatly appreciated, old friend.

  Alvaro laughed and it sounded rusty, as if he hadn’t had much practice lately.

  Tariq laid a hand on Alvaro’s shoulder and directed him toward the private elevator. “Come, share a glass of vintage bloodwine with me and let us catch up.” He punched in the code to open the doors, laid his palm on the plate, and gave the voice command to go to the penthouse.

  As soon as the doors closed, Tariq’s air of joviality dropped. He turned to Alvaro as the lift shot up. “I won’t question how you know what’s going on within my domain when you live thousands of miles away. Nor will I question why you’ve shut yourself off from your brethren these many years. You’ve always keep your ear to the ground. I’m glad to see this much, at least, has not changed.”

  Alvaro inclined his head. “Congratulations on finding your Heart’s Blood.”

  “And promptly losing her,” Tariq muttered as he stalked into his quarters. He waved his hand, indicating the lack of furniture in the sunken living room as he headed for the miraculously untouched bar. “I would offer you a seat but as you can see…”

  “Redecorating?”

  “A minor…mishap,” Tariq acknowledged as he removed the wine bottle from the private fridge and took down two glasses.

  Alvaro joined him at the bar. “Sources say that you are unable to track her, despite administering the Kiss of Life.”

  He savagely twisted the cork out of the bottle. “This woman has confounded me from the beginning. Nothing about her adds up. She smells human but threw off my compulsion like a psychic, disappeared from my lair like a ghost, and drops on and off radar in a manner which I’ve never heard the likes of in all my centuries of existence,” he snarled, feeling no shame in allowing Alvaro to see just how befuddled he was. A vampyr’s Heart’s Blood was the one area in which he was allowed to show weakness. “If my body didn’t still bear the marks of our joining, and if the mating venom wasn’t still thrumming through my veins, I’d think I imagined the whole thing.”

  Tariq poured two glasses of bloodwine, slid one to his compadre, and downed his in one gulp before pouring another for himself. He shuddered as the fruity taste of grapes with the underlying tang of blood hit his taste buds then exploded in his bloodstream. He’d go carefully with the second glass. He couldn’t afford to have his senses incapacitated.

  Alvaro took a sip of his bloodwine. “I know of one species capable of most of what you stated.”

  Tariq tensed and leaned forward expectantly, wanting to grab him by the neck and demand answers, but forced himself to patience. Not that Alvaro would have let him get away with it. The years since he’d dropped out of circulation had in no way made him soft. Alvaro matched his six-and-a-half feet in height and bulk. Whatever he’d suffered—and there was no doubt he’d suffered something because not much turned a vampyr’s hair the color of snow—it had left lines in his face that gave the formerly fun-loving and easy-going male a grim and saddened demeanor.

  “The Felini roll across our senses as human in their two-legged form, but in their animal form we can’t sense them at all. It’s like a huge void where they should be. They’re also not susceptible to compulsion,” Alvaro continued.

  “Felini?” He knew of them, of course. Several alien species called earth home. The Felini were by far the most secretive and reclusive of the lot. “How do you know so much about them?”

  Alvaro tossed back the remainder of his drink and held out the glass for more. “I was blood mated to one.”

  Tariq almost dropped the bottle. Alvaro reached out and took it from his lax grip. “You mind?”

  He cleared his throat and sought his voice. “No, help yourself.”

  Alvaro up ended the bottle and took a swig. Tariq opened the fridge, took out a bottle, and poured another glass full, having a feeling he was going to need it. He hadn’t known their two species were compatible. “I think you’d better start at the beginning.”

  “You remember Roswell?”

  During the mid-1900s in Roswell, New Mexico, it was rumored that an alien spacecraft crashed on a ranch and the United States government—specifically the military—covered it up. It wasn’t too far from the truth. A spaceship had crashed, but it was the vampyr, believing it to be one of their vessels, who’d arrived first on the scene. By the time the military had appeared, all that remained was the tinfoil remnants of one of their experimental weather balloons, planted by the vampyr to throw the humans off track.

  “It was your clutch that responded to the crash site?” Roswell fell within Alvaro’s domain so it was only natural he’d been the one to investigate.

  “Yeah.” There was a faraway look in his silver eyes. “Their shields failed as they came through earth’s atmosphere. One of their ships got separated from the rest, began to burn, then breakup. Most of them made it into escape pods. There were eleven of them. Five adult females—queens they called them—and ten adult males—their breeders—and seven younglings, a combination of male and female survived. We—”

  “Breeders?” Tariq interrupted, intrigued.

  “Felini may look human, but they’re more like their earthen counterpart. When a female Felini goes into heat, she breeds with whoever is strong enough to handle her. They don’t bond and form family units like humans and vampyr. They know which queen is their mother, and recognize fellow littermates, but that’s as close as it gets. The queens rule and care for their younglings. The breeders provide for their queens and the pride’s needs, whatever that need may be. However, they’re more like the vampyr in their sexual play. As long as the female isn’t being bred, she’s free to indulge in intercourse with whomever she chooses.”

  While Tariq absorbed this, Alvaro continued. “We got them out before authorities arrived and helped them settle. Taught them how to blend in on Earth and created the necessary documents they needed to fly under government radar. They needed our help and they knew it, so they formed an alliance of sorts with us. There was only one stipulation: no one was allowed to touch their women. The Felini women were beautiful. All of them with their tawny skin, golden brown eyes, angular faces with high cheekbones in a tall, lean body.”

  To Tariq it sounded like Alvaro was describing his Heart’s Blood.

  “The way they moved…” Alvaro paused, his eyes darkening.

  “You’ve lived a long time, my friend, and seen countless beautiful women. What made this one so exceptional, enough to break peace,” Tariq asked when his friend appeared to have lost himself in his thoughts.

  “She was my Heart’s Blood.” The answer was simple, straightforward, and powerful.

  Tariq took a moment to absorb the impact of Alvaro’s statement and its ramifications. “I take it the Felini didn’t approve?”

  “The Felini are purist. They don’t believe in crossbreeding with other species.” Alvaro took another swig before raising tortured eyes to his. “They killed her. The males took me to her mangled body and while I was dealing with the horror of what they’d done, did their best to rip me to shreds. I survived but lost a bit of my sanity for a long time afterwards.”

  Tariq felt the blood drain from his face, remembering agonizing wash of emotions which flooded him earlier and his suspicions on their cause. He’d been right. “Fuck!”

  Alvaro’s gaze sharpened. “What is it?”

  “Earlier, it felt like she was being tortured.” He described the dizzying array of emotions he’d felt, leaving nothing out.

  “Sounds like a firestorm.” The words were murmured as though Alvaro were thinking aloud.

  “What is a firestorm?”

  The look
Alvaro gave him was apologetic. “It’s a ritual they take their females through when they’re ready to be bred. My Heart’s Blood went through something similar. Completely unnecessary, but she had to keep up appearances. Couldn’t let them know I’d already claimed her. It was hell, feeling what they did to her and being unable to help her, to stop it…”

  Tariq roared and the expensive bottle of bloodwine went sailing across the room to shatter against the wall. What were those bastards doing to her, and how could he stop it if he couldn’t locate her?

  On the heels of his frustrated fury, a surge of blood hunger slammed into Tariq so hard he staggered and fell to his knees. His fangs elongated and heart began to race. Suddenly he was so hungry he felt weak.

  Alvaro leaned over the bar. “Are you all right? Tariq!”

  Tariq could hear Alvaro calling his name as he fought back the need to sink his fangs into him and drain him dry. It made no sense. He’d fed and fed well last night, and just now he’d drunk two glasses of bloodwine. He shouldn’t be feeling like this.

  As quickly as the hunger hit, it faded away as satiation and budding lust took its place. Tariq abruptly recognized its female signature and without a doubt knew whose emotions he channeled. He wouldn’t lose her this time.

  Focusing inwardly, he pushed past the sexual haze stirring his hormones and concentrated until he latched on the thread and followed it back to its source. Once he’d locked on, he immediately jumped.

  He rematerialized to find himself in a dark cavern, smelling of animal fur and blood, but what held Tariq’s attention was his Heart’s Blood. She was being held naked, trapped against the rough rock wall. The man holding her captive was also nude and knelt between her spread thighs.

  Tariq roared, his vision filling with a red haze. His fangs and claws exploded outward as he leapt forward in a single bound. He snatched the man off her by his neck and threw him into the far wall hard enough to hear bones crunch. Then he launched himself after the male, ready to rend and tear him into itty-bitty bits and pieces. He would bathe in his Heart’s Blood attacker’s blood and gorge on his flesh.