Aden (Vampires in America)

by D. B. Reynolds

  “You,” a man’s voice bellowed. “Get out of here. She’s taken.”

  Aden’s head turned slowly. A fat man stood on the other side of the bed. He was completely naked, and in his hand was a thin-tailed whip, stained dark with blood.

  Aden saw that whip, and a haze as red as Sana’s blood obscured his vision. He leapt over the bed and grabbed the fat man, wrenching the whip out of his hand before shoving him to the floor. Lifting the whip, he brought it down with brutal intention, intending to do to this monster far worse than what he’d dared do to Sana. The fat man screamed, but it wasn’t his cry that stopped Aden. It was Zaahira’s voice, her command carrying every ounce of her authority as the mistress of the brothel, as his lover and friend . . . as his owner.

  “Stop!”

  Aden managed to halt his downward swing before it landed on the useless bundle of flesh cringing on the floor before him. One thin lash touched the man’s pudgy thigh, making him scream as if he’d lost the leg instead.

  “Out,” Zaahira snapped. Aden met her angry gaze with one of his own, and for a few brief seconds, he wasn’t sure he was going to obey. But then Sana whimpered, and he rushed to pick her up instead, dragging the sheet from the bed and covering her before taking her out into the hallway where all those prying eyes waited. He took her down the stairs to Isabel, an older slave who worked as Zaahira’s housekeeper and cook.

  That’s where Zaahira found him, helping Isabel apply a soothing balm to Sana’s poor back, holding the girl’s hand against the pain.

  “Aden.” Zaahira spoke from the doorway, as if afraid she’d catch something if she came too close. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. He’d thought if the brothel owner had feelings for anyone, it would be Sana, a child reared in her own house. But instead, she gazed at the scene with distaste, as if calculating how much money she was going to lose while Sana healed.

  “Leave that,” his mistress said sharply when he continued to help Isabel. “Come.”

  His anger was so great it threatened to burn him alive. Isabel must have sensed his rebellion, because she reached out and laid her hand over his, drawing his eyes up to meet hers.

  “Go,” she said, her gaze filled with warning. “I’ll take care of her.”

  His jaw clenched, but he gave her a short nod and stood to his considerable full height, drawing a small measure of satisfaction from the quick flash of fear on Zaahira’s face.

  “My office,” she ordered, then marched down the hall, assuming he’d follow. Which he did. Anger still simmered deep in his gut, but he’d lived with that particular fire for so long, he’d long ago learned to swallow it and take on a suitable mask of compliance.

  Zaahira stormed into her office with a swirl of silk and perfume. There’d been a time Aden had lived and breathed for the privilege of enjoying that scent. A time when pleasing Zaahira had been his only reason for waking every morning. But whatever charm she’d once held for him had been lost on the day she’d chosen to rent his body to others for money. Aden had been devastated, even as he’d scorned himself as a fool for believing in the affection and honor of yet another woman.

  After all, if one couldn’t count on one’s mother, why would one ever trust the good intentions of a whoremonger, no matter how prettily she wrapped herself?

  Zaahira poured herself a cup of mint tea, then sat and sipped feverishly, as if she needed the beverage’s calming effect. Since she was ignoring him, he strode over and slumped into the chair opposite hers without being invited. She shot him an angry glance but didn’t say anything, simply continued her zealous tea consumption until the cup was empty.

  “You put me in a bad position,” she said tightly, setting the empty cup on a nearby table. “Rasim Ahmad is demanding recompense for the injury you caused him.”

  “Injury,” Aden sneered. “It was a scratch. Did you see Sana’s back? He deserves—”

  “You forget your place, slave,” she said. Her voice was cold, her eyes hard and uncompromising, and Aden was reminded that this woman was not his lover, not his friend. He was a useful piece of flesh to her, nothing more.

  “Consider yourself fortunate,” she continued. “He could have demanded your life, but I persuaded him you had other . . . uses.”

  Aden froze. Zaahira had never ordered him to service a man. He honestly didn’t know what he’d do if she ordered it now. Was his life so worthless that he’d rather surrender it than permit himself to be used that way?

  “Rasim Ahmad is waiting for you in the black room,” Zaahira told him with a dismissive wave.

  And Aden forgot how to breathe.

  Chicago, IL, present day

  SIDONIE WATCHED the van’s red taillights disappear as she hurried to the blacked-out Suburban idling at the curb. Aden was already in the back seat, the door standing open in invitation. Or command. One could read it either way.

  Her steps slowed as she drew closer. On the face of it, this moment didn’t seem like much, but it was the point of no return for her. She’d seen what Aden could do, seen the exhilaration in his face when he’d killed those other vampires. Not that she had any sorrow that they were dead. They’d been the lowest of the low, selling human beings for profit.

  But a small voice inside her head kept telling her she should be horrified by the violence she’d witnessed inside that house. And she had been at first. Maybe if the vampires being so brutally slaughtered hadn’t been the merchants of misery they’d been, if they hadn’t been responsible for kidnapping and selling human women and girls. And who was to say it was only human women they sold? Maybe they tossed a female vampire or two into the mix, vamps too weak to defend themselves.

  But as she’d stood there watching in horrified fascination as Aden and his team systematically annihilated the very slavers she’d spent months trying to get someone to pay attention to, her overriding emotion had been one of vengeance met. And it had felt good.

  Besides, there’d been more than violence in there tonight. Aden and his vampires had treated the freed women with kindness and infinite patience. There they’d been: five big, terrifying, capable warriors, and they’d cared for those frightened women as if they were their own sisters and cousins. It had forced Sid to view Aden in a different light. Not as a violent criminal, but as a protector. A powerful male who wreaked vengeance on those who would enslave others.

  Even as she’d had the thought, she’d known she was once again romanticizing the situation. After all, Aden’s competitors for the territory probably weren’t evil people, not all of them anyway, and he’d just as happily destroy them, too. He was a scary guy, a total alpha male who asked for no one’s approval for what he did. He was nothing but trouble, and a very special kind of trouble, a vampire. And she was probably going to end up dead if she hung around him too long.

  But that didn’t stop her heart from racing at the memory of his naked beauty, or the hunger that twisted her gut every time she looked at him. She told herself it was just one more night. That she was tired of being a good girl, and she wanted one more night in Aden’s bed. She wanted him fresh from the fight, bloody and victorious. She wanted more.

  She stepped up into the Suburban without a word. Aden’s fingers closed briefly around her thigh, supporting her as she crossed in front of him to sit behind the driver. His fingers dipped to her inner thigh when she sat down, sliding up until she was sure he could feel the growing heat between her legs. She found herself hoping he’d touch her, that he’d ease some of the ache. But his fingers stopped a hairsbreadth away from touching her cleft where it strained beneath the tight shield of her jeans.

  With a soft chuckle, Aden leaned down and kissed her temple, and she felt the wet touch of his tongue. The bastard was toying with her again. Sid stiffened in annoyance and would have put the short distance available to her between them. But Aden growled a warning when she started to move, lifting his arm and pulling her tightly against his side.

  “Be good, Sidonie,” he murmured.<
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  Her lips tightened, but she couldn’t hold on to the irritation. A satisfied grin wiped it away, leaving nothing but anticipation behind. She’d wanted an alpha male, and that’s what she’d gotten. She only hoped she survived the night.

  Chapter Eleven

  ADEN WAS RUNNING on pure adrenaline. The blood of his enemies was soaking the battlefield, while he and his people were unharmed. It didn’t matter that the battlefield was a run-down house in a crime-riddled neighborhood of Chicago. This was the time in which he lived; these were the enemies he faced. And defeated. And this was only the beginning.

  He glanced at Sidonie sitting next to him. He’d felt the heat between her thighs, the way she’d lifted herself to his fingers, probably without even knowing she was doing it. His good girl wanted to be very bad tonight, and he was going to make her wish come true.

  He reached up and pulled the elastic band from her hair, catching her curls as they tumbled over his hand. Grabbing a fistful, he tugged her head backward and took her mouth in a hard, hungry kiss. She stiffened in surprise, but then opened her mouth eagerly, her tongue tangling with his until she snagged on one of his emerging fangs. A drop of her blood swelled from the tiny pinprick, and Aden sucked it up, pulling her even more tightly against him. He was consumed by the taste of her, by the heat of her mouth and the passion of her response. He would have forgotten himself and fucked her right there in the back seat had they not arrived at his building in that moment.

  He held her hand across the lobby and into the elevator, through the transfer to the private elevator, and down the hall and into his personal suite. But once the door was closed and they were alone, he grabbed the front of her jacket and pulled her to him, crushing his mouth against her tender lips in a fervor of teeth and tongues. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he swung her around and pressed her against the wall. Ripping open her jeans, he jammed his fingers between her thighs, finding her hot and wet, cursing as the tight pants kept him from getting to her.

  “I told you to wear a skirt, damn it,” he growled.

  “I can’t wear a skirt to a fight,” she said breathlessly, struggling to get her hands under his T-shirt.

  “Fuck this.” He swung her up into his arms, strode across the sitting room, and shoved the bedroom door open with a punch of power.

  SID WANTED TO laugh for joy when Aden dropped her on the bed and stripped off her clothes. There was no sexy striptease, no slow peeling away of layers. Her clothes were in the way, and he got rid of them. But if she’d thought this was any indicator of his intentions for how the rest of the night would go, if she thought he’d be on her and in her as quickly as she’d hoped . . . she was mistaken.

  He dragged off his own clothes and prowled up and onto the bed, his body a study in lethal grace, muscles bunching and releasing in an elegant dance of perfection. His shaft hung between his legs, hard and thick, dragging along her thighs and belly in a trail of velvet heat as he made his way up her body, until his powerful thighs pinned her hips to the mattress, his cock so close to her yearning pussy, but so very far away. He leaned forward and clasped her wrists in one huge hand, stretching her arms above her head and holding them there as he kissed her.

  Sid had thought she was ready for this, ready for whatever Aden would do tonight. She’d expected him to take her hard and fast, goaded by battle-driven adrenaline, expected his kisses to be a demand for surrender. But what he did was far more diabolical. His kiss was a whispered seduction, a hint of things to come that left her weak with wanting. His lips caressed, his tongue danced, stroking her teeth and gums until every inch of her mouth felt branded by his touch.

  And that was only the beginning. He moved on to her cheeks, her forehead, every inch of her skin, tasting and kissing his way to her neck, lingering at her taut jugular until she was trembling with anticipation, aching for the sweet release of his bite. But instead of biting her, he lifted his head and smiled. At least, she supposed one could call that a smile. It was wicked and charming, a warning and an invitation. And before Sid could figure out what he intended, he’d captured her wrists in something soft and tied them to the headboard.

  Her eyes went wide. She twisted around, looking above her head to see that the soft something was a bright silk scarf. Sneaky vampire. He must have had it there all the time. She tugged on the scarf and realized two things—the binding was loose enough that she could slip the binding if she wanted, and she really didn’t want to. She lowered her head and met Aden’s hot gaze, and she knew this was a test. She could escape, but she’d be leaving behind far more than the silk binding. She’d be leaving Aden.

  His eyes held hers, asking the silent question. Sid’s pulse was throbbing in time to her racing heart. She was scared. Of what he had planned, yes, but also of what it said about her that she’d never been so aroused in her life, and that she wanted to stay. She licked her lips nervously, and his eyes snapped to the sweep of her tongue before coming back to meet her gaze with that same challenging look.

  Damn it. With a soft sigh, she surrendered. Consciously relaxing her body, she went soft beneath him, letting him feel her submission.

  Aden’s eyes lit up, glowing so brightly that she could see the blue shadow limning her breasts, her jutting nipples. With a rumbling growl, he lowered his mouth to her neck once more, and Sid felt a zing of lust that sank from her breasts to her belly and below. A rush of wet heat made her groan aloud, and she struggled against his pinning thighs, needing to spread her legs, to open herself to his cock where it lay on her belly, taunting her with its heavy presence.

  She flexed her hips in silent demand, and Aden snarled a warning, a rustle of sound along the overheated skin of her neck. The blunt backs of his fangs slid beneath her jaw, and she panted eagerly, waiting for the sting of his bite. But he kept going downward, teasing her with feathering kisses on her shoulders, her chest, finally biting her, closing his teeth over the taut tendon between neck and shoulder. But it was only his teeth, not his fangs, and she moaned a protest, her eyes closed, her head thrashing back and forth as she tugged on the silk bindings, wanting to bury her fingers in his hair and force his fangs back to her neck.

  Aden ignored her wordless pleas as his hot mouth closed over a nipple. He sucked and tormented, his tongue scraping around and around until her nipple was hard and swollen. And then he moved on to her other breast, thrumming the abandoned nipple between finger and thumb as his mouth sucked and teased again until both nipples were aching and puffy. Sid moaned, the rush of sensation from her breasts adding to her growing arousal until she thought she would come right there, just from his tongue.

  He took his mouth away, and she nearly cried, thinking he was leaving her on the edge again. But then she felt the scrape of his fangs along the soft swell of her breast, and she held her breath, waiting for the thrill of his bite, swallowing the cry of need that wanted to escape her throat. She looked down and saw two lines of pinprick blood droplets following the path of his fangs along the curve of her breast. And she saw something else. Aden’s back was tattooed, something big that flowed up his broad back and stretched to his shoulders. She raised her head from the pillow, straining to see what it was, but Aden lifted his gaze at that moment, his eyes gleaming their midnight blue as they met and held her stare.

  Sid froze, mesmerized by the erotic sight of Aden in all his magnificence, thighs bracketing her hips, muscles like banded iron as he held himself above her, his eyes never leaving hers as his tongue slowly stroked her breast, licking up the tiny crimson drops of blood, letting her see as he savored the taste of her, as he rolled the small amount of blood over his tongue, drawing every nuance, every subtle flavor, like a man tasting a fine wine. His gaze was raw with desire, and she thought for sure he was finally going to give her what she wanted. He’d taken her blood, and he was blatantly, gloriously ready, his cock brushing against her thighs whenever he moved, smooth, hot skin over the taut steel of his shaft.

  But he wasn’t finished with
his erotic torture yet. The cool air hit her nipples, leaving them to crave the heat of his mouth, as he abandoned their tight peaks to kiss and lick his way downward, his tongue tasting her abdomen and belly, lingering at the neat triangle of red curls on her mound. Without raising his head, he bent her knees upward, then spread her thighs with his strong fingers, and slid his thumbs into the slit between her swollen lips, baring her completely to his burning gaze. He was so close to her pussy that she could feel the heat of his breath on her aroused flesh. She squirmed in embarrassment, then jerked in surprise when Aden growled and gave her ass a sharp slap of warning, quickly followed by a soothing caress of his big hand.

  Sid blinked in confusion, but not because he’d spanked her—and what else could she call what he’d done? It had been little more than a sting of his palm on her butt cheek, just enough to pink her fair skin. But what confused her was the zing of pleasure she’d felt when he did it. As if the slight sting of the spanking had instantly become a jolt of exquisite pleasure, one she felt over her entire body, a shiver of sensation that seemed to skate along her nerves until it concentrated directly in her clit. She groaned almost unwillingly, struggling through a haze of arousal to figure out what it all meant.

  But then Aden put his mouth to her pussy, and all rational thought fled, swamped by a tidal wave of erotic sensation that literally stole her sight, a curtain of white lightning suddenly filling her vision as if every synapse in her brain had fired at the same time.

  She bucked against Aden’s mouth, her orgasm building, soaring to unstoppable heights, her womb clenching as muscles contracted, her skin so perfectly sensitive that every touch felt like a caress directly to her clit. Aden’s tongue scraped roughly over the swollen nub, and she cried out, her hands fisted around the scarf that still held her, her thighs spasming as they squeezed Aden’s broad shoulders.

  And then he stopped.