The Wicked Vampire
Page 6
“Hey! Wait up!”
Sasha didn’t even realize she was running until Ani called out. She stopped dead in her tracks. Her heart pounded and her breath raced in her chest. Electricity raced through her veins and a spark of anticipation danced along her skin. She’d tried to play it cool. To act as though her curiosity over the berserker was superficial. Her own behavior betrayed her words. Gods, how pathetic. Over the past several months, she’d coached herself to be strong. To take no shit. To depend on no one. To have her own back because she knew no one else would. And one cruel, brooding male had undone all of that hard work with a look?
Bullshit.
Sasha refused to fall victim to her own bleeding heart ever again.
She felt Ani at her back but didn’t turn to face her. Instead, Sasha walked slowly—almost mechanically—toward the entrance of the building. A mantra ran through her head, one she’d be damned if she didn’t heed. Guard your heart. Feel nothing. Protect yourself.
“In a bit of a hurry, are you?” Ani’s sarcasm went ignored. “You promised you’d keep your distance, remember?”
“I remember. And I will. I just don’t want to miss any of the fights.”
Ani clucked her tongue. “Worried he’ll slip through your fingers?”
Something like that. Guard your heart. Feel nothing. Protect yourself. “No one’s slipping through anything.” Sasha refused to lose herself yet again to a male. “I just want to see what I’m up against.”
“Tethered to a berserker.” Ani’s disbelieving tone echoed Sasha’s feelings exactly. “You sure took keeping your enemies close to an extreme.”
Heh. She supposed she did.
Sasha took several cleansing breaths. It was stupid to get so worked up over someone she didn’t know. The butterflies that swirled in her stomach were an unwelcome reminder of how soft her heart could be and the damage that softness could cause. She was here to sate her curiosity and nothing more. She couldn’t afford for it to be anything more.
In and out. That was the plan.
As the crowd roared once again, Sasha reached for the door handle. She hoped her stupid heart wouldn’t do anything tonight to derail her mind.
Guard your heart. Feel nothing. Protect yourself.
* * *
Ewan’s gaze roamed the crowd for any sign of Sasha. He’d hoped she’d be here. Front and center. Her dark, expressive eyes trained on him, her full lips slightly parted with awe. Oh, it was a grandiose image to paint. One that made Ewan aware of his own ego. A thrill rushed through him but it wasn’t the impending fight that excited him. It was the prospect of seeing her again. Feeling her wet, silken flesh glide against his. The fight was nothing more than a pretense to get him here. Front and center with all eyes on him.
“We’re never coming back to this place.” Ewan cast a sidelong glance at Drew. “What? It’s a dump. They have the fighters queued up like fucking cattle. You deserve more respect than this.”
Arrogance was definitely a trait common to all berserkers. They demanded respect. Commanded fear. Ewan didn’t give a shit about being treated like a king, however. He’d let those delusions of grandeur fall to Gregor and the others. Impatience was his only complaint at the moment. Impatience for the fight. Impatience to see her. Impatience for what might happen in the next couple of hours. Gods. Ewan couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so damned antsy and on edge. He wanted something—anything—to happen before he crawled right out of his own gods-damned skin.
The blacked-out doors opened, bringing with it a waft of air. Ewan inhaled deeply the scent of warm cinnamon and held it in his lungs before letting out a slow breath. His gaze went to the entrance where the object of his obsession stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the same female she’d been with two nights ago. Her mahogany hair cascaded over her shoulders and her dark eyes scanned the room. The intensity of her expression sent an electric thrill chasing through his veins.
“Ewan.”
Drew’s voice barely registered. His attention didn’t stray from her as she wound through the crowd of onlookers. Closer. Closer …
“Ewan!” Drew gave him a hearty shove. “You’re up.”
Fuck. The timing could’ve been better. Focus was near to impossible when his thoughts were all over the place and his head was so full of her heady cinnamon scent. His keen senses weren’t doing him any favors right now. Not when he could pick out her scent among thousands and see every detail of her expression in a sea of faces.
“Are you afraid, berserker?” Ewan looked up to find his opponent already in the cage. “Come on, tonight’s as good a night as any to die!”
As if the werewolf even stood a chance. The full moon was a couple weeks off, which meant he wouldn’t be at full strength. He couldn’t take on his animal form, which meant he’d heal much slower from any damage he sustained. The scale was so tilted to one side, Ewan almost felt bad for agreeing to step into the cage with him in the first place.
Someone was going to die tonight, but it wouldn’t be Ewan.
The werewolf was obviously mouthy and interested in providing the crowd with a good show. Ewan could at least give him that. He’d ended his last fight too quickly in his preoccupation with the vampire. He couldn’t lose sight of why he was here. This was about making money. Period. A bored and restless crowd did nothing to line his pockets.
Ewan might not have wanted to keep the vampire waiting, but neither could he risk the possibility of not being invited back into the arena to fight. If he didn’t provide the necessary entertainment, there’d be no use for him. Ewan couldn’t have that. Sasha had to have known he’d be here tonight, which meant she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He could afford to dedicate his attention to the werewolf and appease the bloodlust of the crowd.
He’d put on a show and then some.
Ewan crossed his arms over his torso and stripped his T-shirt from his body. The simple act sent the crowd into a frenzy as he stepped up to the webbed silver cage and stepped inside. Berserkers had few vulnerabilities. Most supernatural creatures couldn’t tolerate silver but it didn’t affect Ewan in the slightest. The magic woven within the silver webs was a different story, however.
Berserkers were magic sensitive in that its very presence was sometimes enough to agitate them. While beheading was the most effective way to put a berserker down, magic could get the job done, too, if wielded by an adept. Not many—if anyone—outside of their ranks knew that little tidbit. Always best to keep potential enemies guessing. Never reveal the chinks in your armor. Don’t give your adversaries ammunition against you. Always strong. Always determined. One mind, one goal, one clan. Gregor had pounded those values into their heads for as long as Ewan could remember.
His obsession with the vampire was bound to land him in deep shit with Gregor. And the male didn’t tolerate betrayal. Too late to do anything about it now, he supposed.
The door to the cage closed behind him and Ewan rotated his hands and examined the silver cuffs that circled each wrist. They didn’t offer any support, but the spikes that protruded from each cuff would aggravate the hell out of his opponent. He stretched his neck from side to side, rolled his shoulders. Shifted his weight from one foot to the other and forced his mind to focus on the task at hand and not the scent that filled his head as though she were the only other being in the building.
“Not much of a talker, are you, berserker?” Ewan couldn’t help but wonder if the werewolf’s strategy was to talk him to death. “Do berserkers even know how to speak? Or do you communicate with grunts and growls like the animals you are?”
Ewan rolled his eyes. He’d heard it all before. Hopefully the werewolf was a better fighter than he was an insult slinger. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be much he could do to prolong the fight.
Ewan didn’t bother to set the werewolf straight on his assumptions. Instead, he let out a low growl as he adopted a fighting stance. He wanted tonight’s fight to be a performance. For an audience of one.
Ewan swiped his arm upward and caught the werewolf in the face with one of the spikes of his silver cuff. The scent of burning flesh singed his nostrils as the silver scorched the werewolf’s cheek, opening a wide gash. Blood scented the air and a renewed sense of power surged through Ewan’s veins. The crowd went wild, chanting for more bloodshed, eager for death. The battle master stepped between Ewan and the werewolf, arms outstretched. There weren’t many rules in the arena, but the werewolf had tried to strike before Ewan had been afforded the opportunity to choose his weapon.
All the interruption served to accomplish was to ignite Ewan’s temper and impatience.
“Will you take a weapon for this bout, berserker?” The battle master’s voice echoed with the spark of magic and the crowd fell silent. “And one free shot against your opponent.”
The crowd erupted into shouts and cheers once again. Ewan’s breath heaved in his chest as the battle master faced him and presented the case full of weapons.
“Get out of my way and let me fight.” Ewan forced the words from between clenched teeth. “I don’t need any of that to kill him.”
If the atmosphere had been full of excited anticipation before, it was positively electric now. Ewan’s arrogance, his defiance and hostility, his sheer aggression sent the crowd into a frenzy. The werewolf was weak. It wasn’t even close to a fair fight.
“Let them fight! Let them fight!” Angry voices called out from the groups of onlookers, as eager as Ewan to get on with it.
Ewan leveled his gaze on the battle master and held his attention. “I’ll fight as I am. Now, get out of the way unless you want to die as well.”
The battle master took a quick step back and exited the ring without another word. Rowdy cheers echoed in Ewan’s ears, his opponent’s lip curled back in a determined snarl. His own focus became laser sharp and he tuned out everything around him.
Everything but the vampire who stood at the edge of the ring, watching him in just the way he hoped she would.
CHAPTER
7
Gods, he was magnificent. It bothered Sasha more than she wanted to admit that she didn’t know his name, but it didn’t dull his charisma in the ring. A cold finger of fear stroked down her spine as she watched him fight and it only seemed to heighten her excitement. The berserker was the ultimate forbidden fruit. A sworn enemy. Deadly. Dangerous. Violent. Cruel. Unforgiving.
And he belonged to her.
He moved faster than any creature she’d ever seen. Each blow delivered landed with amazing precision. The werewolf wouldn’t last long in the silver cage. Sasha almost felt sorry for him. He’d walked in of his own volition, though. Both males knew the rules and both knew only one would make it out alive. There was no doubt the berserker would be the one left standing. No one could best him.
He was … invincible.
Heat coiled low in Sasha’s belly and spread outward. She shouldn’t want him. Hell, she should have been shaking with fear and running the other direction. But all she wanted was to get closer. To flirt with the flames in hope of getting burned. Gods, how could she possibly be tethered to this male who fought with such wild ferocity?
The berserker toyed with his prey for the benefit of the crowd. It worked the eager onlookers into a frenzy and money changed hands all around Sasha. Anyone who bet against him deserved to lose their money.
“Honey, close your mouth. You’re starting to drool.” Ani reached over and lifted Sasha’s chin with her fingertips.
Sasha didn’t dare drag her eyes from the arena. She didn’t want to miss a second of her mate’s impressive display of strength, stamina, and skill. She wiped at her bottom lip as though there were actually something there to clean up and Ani laughed.
“You do realize how bat-shit crazy this is, right?” Sasha still didn’t bother to look at her friend. “I mean, look at him!”
Oh, she was getting an eyeful. Ani didn’t need to worry about that. Adrenaline coursed through Sasha’s veins, causing her limbs to quake with unspent energy. Anticipation pulled her muscles taut and she squeezed her thighs together to keep them from trembling. She knew she should be disgusted by the violent exhibition. She should turn away. Put her back to him. Walk out the door and never try to find him again. But Sasha stood rooted in place. Her gaze was trained on the berserker. She was captivated. Mesmerized. Nothing, not even the barbarism of this moment could force her attention away.
Thanks to supernatural healing and stamina, these fights could last hours. The werewolf was armed with a dagger and a wicked-looking mace but he’d yet to deliver a single blow to the berserker. The battle dance encouraged the crowd. Loosened pockets. How much money did her mate stand to gain by putting on a good show tonight?
Gods. Her mate. The more she thought about it, the more unbelievable it seemed. She took a step toward the silver cage as though drawn to him like metal to a magnet. His attention wandered from the fight for the barest moment. His gaze met hers. Wild and intense. Sasha let out a quick gust of breath and sucked it in just as quickly as the werewolf capitalized on his distraction and landed a blow to his shoulder with the studded mace.
Sasha flinched as though she’d been hit by the heavy weapon. The berserker let out a grunt but other than that gave no other outward show he’d been harmed. His dark gaze narrowed as he turned his attention back to his opponent and focused once again on the fight. Inky black bled into his eyes and he fought with a ferocity that stalled the breath in Sasha’s chest. He was nothing more than an animal now, operating on base instinct and rage. Unarmed, save the silver cuffs at his wrists, he needed no other weapon to be deadly. He was a weapon. And Sasha stood in awe of him.
He no longer played with the werewolf. Wasn’t interested in prolonging the fight for anyone’s entertainment. The werewolf would die in a matter of moments and a ripple of fear vibrated through Sasha at the realization. Their world was a violent one. Sasha was accustomed to death. But it was of little comfort to her as she watched, wide-eyed, as her mate spun in a blur of motion to snatch the silver dagger from the werewolf’s hand and drive it through his heart.
The berserker turned to look at her. The midnight black retreated from his gaze but did nothing to diminish the intensity of his expression. His chest heaved with labored breath, sweat glistened and ran in rivulets over the hills and valleys of his muscled chest. He jerked his chin toward the rear of the building. Sasha didn’t need words to know he just given her a command, and fool that she was, she obeyed.
She tossed Ani her key fob. She wasn’t about to leave her friend stranded. “I’ll find my own way home.”
Ani didn’t seem to be the least bit surprised. She gave Sasha a disapproving look, her lips pursed. “At least promise to be fucking careful.”
“Promise.”
Sasha turned and pushed her way through the crowd as she made her way to the back of the building. Another fight was about to begin, but in the meantime, those who’d made good money were eager to congratulate the berserker on his win. Sasha didn’t wait for him to make his way to her. Instead she rushed toward the back of the building to find a private space, away from prying eyes.
A set of double doors led to a large stockroom. The space was empty now except for a few random cardboard boxes and an old metal desk at the far end of the vast space. She was surrounded on all sides by concrete. The walls, the floor. A large docking bay door had been left open to allow a chilly breeze to circulate through the space. Sasha hugged her arms around her midsection as she looked up to the ceiling at the exposed ducts and wi
ring. Goose bumps rose on Sasha’s flesh and she suppressed a shiver.
“Back for more, vampire?”
The brogue of his voice resonated through her. The berserker’s left arm wound around her waist. He hauled her against his chest as his right hand reached up to brush her hair away from the nape of her neck. His touch was a brand in comparison to the cold air that surrounded her. His open mouth came to rest where his hand had just been and Sasha’s stomach clenched tight with lust. His teeth grazed her sensitive skin and Sasha let out a quiet whimper. A rush of wet heat spread between her thighs as she reached for his arm at her waist and gripped it tight. He was one-hundred-percent predator, and Sasha thrilled at the prospect of becoming his prey.
“Yes.” The word left her lips on a breathy whisper. He bit down on her neck again, a little harder this time, and she swore if she wasn’t holding on to him her legs would’ve given out beneath her. “Don’t disappoint me this time.”
His low laughter coaxed a fresh round of chills over her flesh. “Don’t worry, pet. I don’t plan to disappoint you.”
* * *
The bathroom where they’d had their first encounter was more accommodating than this fucking stockroom. Ewan didn’t know why it bothered him. It was as good a place as any to fuck. That’s all this was, after all. An emotionless fulfillment of need. Nothing more, nothing less. She was an itch he wanted to scratch. Soon enough, he’d be bored with her and move on. Until then, he planned to enjoy her in any way he damn well pleased.
He brought his mouth to the nape of her neck once again. She tasted like honey fresh from the comb, almost too sweet. His left hand dove beneath her shirt and he jerked down the cup of her bra to fondle one full breast. Sasha gasped at the contact and hardened Ewan’s cock to stone. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and she cried out with pleasure, the sound echoing off the stark concrete walls.