by I. T. Lucas
She kept her eyes on Kian, inhaling sharply when he added a third finger. With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he closed his lips around the tiny bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex. As he sucked it in, Syssi erupted, groaning his name as she came, then mewling and thrashing as he kept at it; prolonging her climax and squeezing every last drop of pleasure out of her until her whole body shook with the power of it.
Coming down from floating in that semi-conscious, post-orgasmic space, she gasped at the sight of Kian suspended above her—gloriously naked.
Giving her no time to ponder the how and when he had shucked his clothes, or to admire his beautifully muscled body, with a grunt, he speared into her.
It hurt. And Syssi cried out as her channel stretched, struggling to accommodate his girth. For a moment there, she wanted to push him off; memories of her first time intruding on and marring what was supposed to be something wonderful—casting an unpleasant shadow over the bliss that he had brought her before.
Gradually, though, as she panted, waiting for the pain to subside, an odd lust pulsed through her, turning the soreness into pleasure.
At first, Kian didn't move. With his muscles straining, his eyes blazing in his hard face, he looked into her eyes, holding his breath as he waited for her body to adjust to his invasion. Only when she began to moan and undulate—her lust and her pleasure overriding her pain—did he began thrusting, carefully, gently, until she gasped again.
In pleasure, this time.
As he kept driving in and out of her, increasing the tempo and force of his thrusts, the powerful pounding rattled the bed, banging it against the wall and driving them both toward the headboard.
Grabbing the metal frame above where she was holding on, Kian braced himself; his biceps bulging with the strain and sweat dripping down the center of his muscular chest.
As Syssi climbed toward another climax, Kian's grunts and her moans were accompanied by the sounds of the bed's feet sliding and screeching on the hardwood floor, its headboard banging against the wall, providing a carnal soundtrack to the drama of their fierce coupling.
Forcing her eyes to remain open, Syssi stared with awe at Kian's handsome face. Straining, he was covered in sweat, his lips pressed into a thin line. And his eyes, those hypnotic blue eyes of his, were glowing with an eerie luminance.
I'm delirious, she thought, marveling at the sight.
Shifting those amazing eyes down to her neck, he dipped his head to suck and lick at her fast pulsing vein; strands of his soft hair caressing her cheek as he kept his relentless pounding.
On an impulse, Syssi turned her head sideways, startled to find herself silently pleading with him; Bite me! Please!…
Oh, God!
The sharp pain of his fangs sinking into her vein shocked her; the needle-like incisors were clearly not human.
Fangs… He had fangs in my dream… was her last coherent thought as his seed jetted into her, and she fell apart, her climax erupting in waves of volcanic intensity.
The euphoria that followed left her boneless and exhausted. Unable to open her eyes, blissful and content, she sighed, surrendering to oblivion.
CHAPTER 7: KIAN
Kian retracted his fangs, and with a couple of licks over the incision points, closed the small wounds.
Stroking Syssi's damp hair away from her temples, he looked at her peaceful, sleeping face, then pressed a gentle kiss to her parted lips.
He had exhausted the poor girl.
When he had entered her, he had not expected her to be so tight, and the look of pain on her face had startled him. After climaxing twice, she had been so wet, it should've been a smooth glide.
If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought her a virgin.
And yet, he had kept at it, ejaculating inside her over and over again before forcing himself to stop. With his superior physiology providing stamina to match, he could've kept going. Except, the same couldn't have been said about her… For Syssi, it must have been a rough ride…
She looked drained.
Yeah, he was a selfish bastard.
Pulling out, careful not to wake her, Kian remained suspended over her for a moment, and looking at her beautiful face, he was gripped by an intense craving to cleave unto her and make her his.
Heavens! How he wanted to come clean and tell Syssi everything: about himself, who he was, what he was… needing her to accept it all, accept him…
His chest tight, he reluctantly prepared to perpetuate the deception, and with a heavy sigh, reached into her mind, carefully extracting the memory of his bite.
It had to be done.
With one more kiss to her sweet lips, he got up and walked over to the bathroom, bringing back a warm washcloth for his girl.
Syssi didn't stir. Not as he gently wiped away their combined issue, nor when he climbed into bed, not even when he turned her sideways so he could spoon behind her.
Reaching for the crumpled comforter at the foot of the bed, he pulled it up to cover them both.
"Sleep tight, precious," he whispered.
CHAPTER 8: MICHAEL
"I'm never going to get wasted like this again," Michael Gross groaned.
Getting buzzed had been fun, but the aftermath was a bitch. He shouldn't have fueled up on all that crappy vodka before going to the club. But given the outrageous prices the place charged for drinks, Eddie's idea to buy the stuff cheap at the supermarket had been genius.
And besides, not being twenty-one yet, and getting in with a friend's ID, buying drinks at the club would have been pushing his luck unnecessarily, stupid. The guy at the door never paid close attention to the picture, but the bartender had been known to occasionally double check if something looked fishy.
Then again, it wasn't like his unfortunate shortage of cash had nothing to do with it…
Given his pitiful allowance, and not being that big on drinking to begin with, most nights Michael had been the one to volunteer as their triad's designated driver. But tonight they had flipped for it, and Zack had gotten to do the honors.
He had to admit, though, that there was something to be said for hitting the snooze button on his inhibitions—easier to flirt. Not that he suffered from a lack of confidence, but still, sometimes a dude needed something extra to go after the hottest girls everyone was hitting on.
"So, Michael, did you get Gina's number, or is she still moping after that douchebag boyfriend of hers?" His friend Eddie was too loud, too close, his voice pounding in Michael's ears.
"Shh… Eddie, you are drilling holes in my head. Don't you have any other volume besides loud and extra loud?" Michael rubbed his temples and increased the length of his strides, trying to put some distance between himself and his friend's booming voice.
The night was chilly, the light breeze carrying a faint smell of freshly cut grass, and if Eddie would've ever shut up, the ten-minute walk from the parking lot to their dorms might've helped with the headache.
"I'm not loud. You're drunk bro… And back to the subject of Gina-the-football-player-slayer. If she's not interested in you, I might want to give her a try… If it's okay with you, that is… I don't want to infringe on your turf or anything."
"She is all yours. Just shut up already. You are loud." Michael walked even faster, the brisk pace helping sober him up.
Gina was hot, but she was dumb as a brick. And although she had given him her number, Michael wasn't sure he was going to call.
"Nice…" He heard Eddie from some distance behind him, and then Zack's snort from even further away.
Michael was about to come up with some clever shit to say when he got a weird feeling that they were being watched. Looking around the deserted campus, he slowed down then stopped as the sensation got stronger. The small hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
Crouching low with his elbows tucked at his sides—fists up—Michael scanned for the source of his alarm.
With his sudden halt, Eddie and Zack stopped themselves from knocking
him over by throwing out their hands and bracing against his back. Being built like a truck, though, the force of the impact didn't budge him an inch.
"What the hell, man? What's wrong with you?" Zack growled.
"Shh… Shut up for a moment…" Michael raised his palm to signal for them to keep quiet. The feeling of being watched was just amplified by a hefty dose of a menacing threat when his receptive mind tuned into someone's nefarious, dark intentions.
The adrenaline rush sobering him instantly, he listened for the source.
As his friends finally caught on to his defensive stance and positioned themselves back-to-back with his, forming a triad, Michael wondered who might be dumb enough to jump three football players weighing in aggregate over seven hundred pounds.
Junkies, armed robbers, members of a defeated team… his mind provided a list of probable suspects.
Except, nothing stirred in the eerily quiet night.
Disturbed only by the remote hum of cars passing by, Michael had the impression that it was the quiet before the storm. He could feel the imminent attack down to his bones.
His nemesis, whoever he or they were, was about to pounce.
"Get ready, boys. Shit is coming down," he whispered.
As the last word left his mouth, two groups of some of the biggest, scariest motherfuckers he had ever seen, came running at them from opposite directions.
"We're history," Eddie whispered as they braced for impact.
Except, it never came.
The two groups collided... attacking each other.
Surprised and relieved, Michael watched as these titans fought hand to hand, performing the best martial arts moves he had ever seen, in fiction or elsewhere, their bodies so fast they blurred.
By the sound of it, it was a ferocious battle. The fleshy thuds of fists and boots finding their targets, the metallic clank of knives clashing, and the grunts of pain and exertion of the combatants completed the picture that Michael's eyes found too fast to follow.
CHAPTER 9: YAMANU
Yamanu tensed at the same time Arwel jumped and unsheathed his dagger.
Even though he wasn't as strong an empath as Arwel, he had no problem picking up on the Doomers' presence. Differentiating their pattern of aggression from the normal currents produced by the multitude of students occupying the dorms around them, combined with the sudden wave of fear coming at him from the boys, he could trace the signals like a beacon pinpointing their location.
"Follow me!" Yamanu sprinted towards that beacon.
With Arwel and Onegus running close behind him, they reached Michael and his friends at the same time the Doomers did.
Three Doomers against three boys and three Guardians.
The boys, though looking quite brawny for young humans, posed no challenge for the Doomers. But at the same time, the Doomers didn't pose a real challenge for the Guardians either.
Good odds.
He had to hand it to the young men though, they did good, proving that they had brains on top of brawn by forming a triad to protect each others backs. Obviously, they didn't stand a chance against the Doomers' strength, training and weapons. But at least, they wouldn't have gone down without a fight.
As it turned out, though, Yamanu had underestimated the Doomers, and he realized his mistake as soon as he and his fellow Guardians engaged the fighters. Brundar had been right; this new breed of Doomers were nothing like those he had encountered in the past. Not only were they better trained and stronger, but the bastards fought with what seemed like suicidal desperation.
Eventually though, they weakened and began making mistakes, losing their momentum.
At that point, Yamanu detangled himself from the melee, confident in his companions' ability to finish the job without him.
"Come with me," he called to the boys, motioning for them to follow as he threw an illusion over the scene, making it disappear from sight.
The boys didn't budge, staring frozen and slacked-jawed at the spot where only a moment ago they had witnessed a fierce fight.
CHAPTER 10: MICHAEL
As Michael watched the surreal scene unfolding right before his eyes, reconciling what he saw with reality was impossible. As if things hadn't been weird enough before, featuring the clash of the titans Jackie Chan style, now the bizarre scene disappeared as if it never existed, leaving behind a dude that looked like something from a shroom hallucination.
Standing, at least, six and a half feet tall, the man had long black hair reaching down to his waist, and pale blue eyes that looked eerie on his dark, angular face.
"Come, I'm here to help you," the dude repeated, shoving at Michael and his friends and forcing them to start moving.
Herded like sheep, they made their way through a narrow alley between two buildings. Coming out on the other side, the guy found a bench and had them sit on it.
"Look at me!" he commanded in a singsong cadence, compelling them to obey. "What you've just witnessed was nothing but some drunk students getting into a brawl. By tomorrow, you'll forget it ever happened. I want you boys to get up, go on to your rooms and go to sleep. Michael, you stay. I'm taking you to see your auntie… It's a family emergency."
Eddie and Zack rose to their feet and walked away without giving Michael a second glance; following the dude's command like a couple of zombies.
"What auntie, and what family emergency?" Michael asked, shifting his eyes back to the guy.
"Hi, I'm Yamanu." The stranger smiled and offered Michael his hand, his perfectly straight teeth flashing white in his dark face.
"Hi, normally I would have said nice to meet you back, but I'm not sure it is." Michael shook the frying-pan-sized hand. "And you know my name, how?"
Yamanu smirked. "You have some balls on you son; most guys would be a tad more polite in your situation."
"And what situation is that exactly? If you'd be so kind as to enlighten me?" Michael stared into the guy's unnerving eyes, forcing himself not to flinch.
Yamanu threw his head back and let out a guffaw, the laugh reverberating through his massive body as he plopped down on the bench beside Michael.
Shaking his head, he wrapped his arm around Michael's shoulders. "I like you, son… really big balls—coconut size." He gestured with his other hand as if weighing the big fruit. "Not many have the guts to stare down those peepers of mine." He pinned Michael with a stare. "So, I'll tell you what… let's say there are some weirdoes out to get you." Yamanu chuckled at Michael's arched brow. "It has to do with the strange things you can do up here." He tapped Michael's forehead. "You ask me how I know," he continued, nodding at Michael's surprised expression. "Dr. Amanda Dokani is a good friend of mine, and she asked my friends and me to protect you. So here we are."
As if on cue, the other two showed up, looking like roadkill; bloodied, their clothes torn and dirty.
"Had a nice time chatting, girls? While we were doing all the dirty work, and the cleanup?" The blond guy sounded only partially amused as he dropped tiredly onto the bench, resting his arms on its back and stretching out his legs.
The other one had hesitated for about two seconds before shrugging and doing the same on the other side of the bench.
"Michael, this is Arwel, and that is Onegus." Yamanu introduced his friends.
They each gave a nod when Yamanu said their name, looking too wiped out to respond. For a moment, the four of them just sat there saying nothing.
"What did you do with the Doomers?" Yamanu broke the silence.
"Sleeping peacefully, loaded and ready to go," Onegus said.
"We'd better get a move on, then." Yamanu rose, giving a hand to Arwel, who stood up groaning.
The guy held his side, leaning into his bracing hand. "I think I have a broken rib."
"You should go see Bridget when we get home, make sure that rib heals right,” Onegus advised while limping along. "I think I'll come with you. Something is wrong with my foot."
Michael walked beside Yamanu; shellshock
ed.
Who or what the hell are Doomers? And what did Onegus mean when he said they were sleeping peacefully, loaded and ready to go… Was he talking about the guys they fought off? Was sleeping a euphemism for dead?
Glancing at his companions, Michael wasn't scared despite how surreal things had gotten. Letting his senses probe, all he felt coming from them was their confidence in their strength and their ability to protect.
They meant him no harm.
Still, he was intrigued by the powerful men. Who were these guys? How did they know Dr. Dokani? Were they some secret government agents? Special Ops? With his imagination churning up one fascinating scenario after another, by the time they reached the car, his head was pounding worse than before.
Sitting in the back with Arwel, Michael suddenly felt exhausted. And when Yamanu twisted back and looked at him, he felt compelled to let his eyelids slide shut.
Fighting the urge, he forced his eyes to remain open, hoping to see where they were taking him. But a few minutes into the ride, he lost that battle and passed out.
CHAPTER 11: SYSSI
The bedroom was still dark when Syssi opened her eyes, with only a smidgen of light coming through the bathroom's cracked door.
Still, it sufficed.
Looking down at the muscular arm draped around her middle, she drew in a deep breath, making an effort to exhale it as quietly as possible not to wake Kian. Not yet.
She needed a few moments to think and process what had just happened.
Oh, God. It had been real this time. And the proof was curled behind her back, his big body warm, and his chest rising and falling with each of his slow, rhythmic breaths.
He wasn't a figment of her imagination.
Not that she could've imagined any of it if she tried. Syssi couldn't remember ever passing out after sex. But then again, she never had mind-blowing orgasms that left her boneless, breathless, and floating, either.