BloodStar

by Montoya, Cassidy

  And goddamn, she did want him. So why shouldn’t she have him? This new psychology camping out in her control tower was fantastic. She didn’t have to ponder morals, wonder if she was going to hurt someone in the end. No, all she had to do was decide what would feel good, and help herself.

  And Sam would feel fucking great.

  Marley stopped in front of her mirror, but there was no need. She was one of them now.

  She padded out into the living room and stopped in front of the couch where he lay with eyes closed. Jesus, he smelled divine. He was all man, red-blooded and red-hot. She was going to mount him bareback and have the ride of her life.

  Her mouth watered. Sabian hadn’t smelled like this, but that was comparing apples to oranges. Plus, she’d been only human then. Marley was so turned on by the sleepy flush in Sam’s cheeks she had to wipe drool snaking down her chin.

  "Whatcha thinking about?" Sam asked, eyes still closed.

  "You scared me."

  He didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes. "Aren’t you supposed to have some kind of awareness thing? I’d think a basic sense of whether someone is awake or sleeping would be included." The words were sarcastic, but the tone was little more than weary resignation.

  "I’m aware of things." Like the fact that you smell heavenly and need to wrap yourself around me right fucking now.

  "Wonderful." He still did not look at her.

  Marley drifted closer, silent and calculating. He finally opened his eyes and she was right in front of his face, kneeling down and resting her weight on the tips of her fingers, eyes trained on his full, lush lips. He hadn’t shaved and had a sort of Miami Vice thing going on. Fuck yeah, it looked good on him.

  "Goddamn! Jesus, Marley. Do me a favor, back up a little."

  "I don’t think so."

  "Well I do. I’m not the Red Cross fucking champion you think I am. No more blood. I don’t like the way you’re looking at me right now."

  "I think you do. I think you want me the same way I want you."

  He barked a rueful chuckle. "I guarantee I don’t want you the way you want me. Your blood is sewage."

  "I’m not talking about your blood." Okay, that was bullshit, but so what. Once she mounted him and fucked his brains out, she’d have his blood, too. Fuck yeah, she would. This was better than any bottle of Jack.

  Sam shrank into the couch. "Back off, Marley."

  "Why do you fight it?"

  "Because I want to live. He’s coming, Marley. If I let you play your little game with me, he’ll know. He’ll be through with me lickety-split, and there will be pain, so thanks, but no thanks."

  But Marley felt his desire and saw the seismic activity in his pants. They’d been telling her Sabian was coming for so long she didn’t believe it anymore, at least not in this moment when all she could think about was Sam jammed up inside her. He was so hot-blooded, so alive.

  Marley leaned her weight back a bit, and reached for his fly with her right hand. Sam looked down, and then back to Marley. "Just stop. You don’t want me, anyway."

  She began climbing on top of him, and at first he resisted, pushing at her, telling her no, but her body was heavier than he could manage, and in the end he allowed her to straddle him. He would not look at her. Marley splayed her fingers across his chest and waited. He would talk. Hell, his arousal was trying to start a conversation right now.

  "Sam," she purred. "Why won’t you look at me?"

  "Because I don’t want to remember you this way."

  "Sam, I want you inside me. Don’t you want to remember that?"

  "I doubt if either of us will see the sun rise, but if I should, I want to keep you safe. I want a memory that doesn’t include all the nasty manipulation I’d see now if I looked at you. So pretty please, get the fuck off me. You’re heavy and it hurts."

  "I’m not that heavy, and it only hurts because you want me, too." She reached between their bodies and moved his arousal so it wasn't at such a painful angle. Sam gasped, and Marley moaned, "Let me do this." Pride was not a factor. She’d beg if she had to—that would come first because she did love this man, after all. But it was Kindred love, now, so she didn’t have to set aside her needs for his anymore. And if he wouldn’t yield to begging, she would rip his fucking pants off with her teeth and gobble his cock until the tables were turned and he begged her. It wasn’t rape if he asked for it.

  Jesus Christ, the thought of rape only made her hotter. For just a moment, she wondered what she’d become, but let the thought slide out of her mind like butter off a roll.

  A heavy sigh, and then he closed his eyes to punctuate the message being sent with his turned head.

  Marley began to grind against him, a slow movement that burned her insides. "Sam, don’t you care about me?"

  "No."

  Marley leaned down, still grinding, and said with cool breath against his neck, "I don’t believe you."

  "I don’t care about that, either." But his breath was beginning to hitch.

  "I can feel what you feel."

  "Then you must be disgusted."

  "Sam, I want to give you a choice, but I don’t have to." They were Sabian’s words, verbatim, but now they made sense. Jesus, she understood exactly where he’d been coming from.

  "That’s not really a threat, Marley. Why don’t you just get off me and wait for your precious Sabian."

  Marley sat up, still weighing against his swollen groin. She was getting pissed now. "Haven’t you realized yet? He’s just as much your Sabian as mine. He’s the common denominator here. We—me, you and that crazy fucking bitch you teamed up with—we’re all together for the same purpose: we’re all trying to get to Sabian, for one reason or another. You’re as drawn to him as we are."

  "You think I don’t know that?" Sam’s voice came out with choked shame. "You think I’m here for kicks? I can’t help it any more than you can. The only difference is your kind has no boundaries, no regrets." He jacked a finger in her face: "You don’t have to wonder why you do what you do. You just do it, and meanwhile I twist myself crooked trying to deal with this—this obsession. Deal with my…feelings about you. Fuck that. I choose to hold on to who I am, at least as much as I can. So take away my choice. Big fucking whoop. At least it won’t be me forgetting who I am. It’ll be you taking it from me while you let yourself slip away willingly."

  It was a total KO. She wanted to blame her behavior on her ruby sweet tooth, but that was bullshit. The blood was one hell of a motivator, but she was still her own person. Or vampire. Whatever. Point was Sam was right.

  She turned her head aside and started to climb off. Sam moved his hands to her waist and held her in place. He still didn’t look at her, but his fingertips dug at the soft flesh around her middle.

  Hell yeah. He may have been right, but apparently that didn’t make Marley wrong.

  Neither of them said anything for long seconds. Stillness was the theme, he with his hands on her waist, she mounted on top of him, seeing the struggle plain on his face.

  She eased forward, supporting her weight with her hands on the arm of the couch. Sam dropped his hands from her waist but didn’t object to her trajectory. She pushed her thick, copper curls away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. Her fangs tingled to be let loose, and she damn near broke a sweat controlling her new physiology. At first, only their lips met. When Sam’s tongue flicked at hers, the kindling took to flame.

  His arms snaked their way back around her waist, crushing her to him. She arched her back, exposing her neck to him for once. This time her ability to control her fangs was negated. His hands ran up and down the front of her body, feeling under her shirt for her eternal flesh.

  "Take it," he rasped. "Do it, Marley." He ground against her right where she needed him to be, and Marley wasn’t exactly sure what he meant. Did he want to be inside her? She was about to reach for his zipper when he said, "Just fucking drink. I want you to."

  Well, hell then. That sure didn’t sound
like indecision to Marley, and she damn sure didn’t care about what it would mean. He thrust his hips and pumped back and forth against her as she pierced his flesh.

  Fuck, his blood was out of this world. Not enough. She needed more. Flesh on Flesh was the only thing that would compliment this meal. Marley released his vein and lapped at the wound until the healing process began, meanwhile her hands fumbled at the buckle on her pants. She couldn’t believe they were about to go for it. Jesus, she wanted him so bad.

  "Your pants," Marley rasped. "Off." She could barely speak.

  Sam arched off the couch and took her mouth as he started the same clumsy dance with his pants she had going on with hers. As their tongues met and lips fused in a desperate attempt to get inside each other, the door to the apartment opened and a thoroughly gratified Anya walked in toting a young child in her wake. The girl was entranced, but not so spellbound her inert terror wasn’t obvious.

  "Oh. My. God. Perfect," Anya said, fangs decorating the smug smile on her face.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  "We should be there in a few hours," said Teichmann like a goddamn ticker-tape, giving updates every two and a half minutes. Solis didn’t need a GPS sitting next to him clocking off miles; he was well aware of their slow progress. The storm had abated, even in the Rockies, but the havoc left behind was epic. The Donner Party probably didn’t even have to deal with snow this fucking deep.

  They were forced to attach chains to their tires on the east side of Glenwood Springs, and this infuriated Solis. Fucking little four-banger two-wheel drives, sure, but a V-8 four-wheel drive like their Vanguard Ford Expedition? Couldn’t they see it was balls to the walls?

  Of course they couldn’t. The "they" in question was Colorado State Patrol. Solis harbored a special, extra sweet hatred for highway patrol. Fucking cowards. As far as he was concerned, they were the biggest pussies, smuggest cocks, and out-and-out gaping uber-assholes on the law enforcement menu. Who signs up to drive around all day and aim a toy gun at cars, most of which are just trying to make good time to their Christmas celebrations or hit a meeting without being late? Shit, if he dressed in plain clothes and sat on the side of a road pointing a device that looked just like a gun at passersby, he’d be hauled off in cuffs.

  Once upon a time, when he was fresh and Halac was his mentor, Solis had been harassed while undercover by a highway patrol officer; fucking manly cunt is what she was.

  The Hunters had been in pursuit of a leech that had fled custody in a stolen Porsche. The tricky bastard decided to abandon the chase for wilderness as cover. They were in western Washington way up along the Canadian border, and the vamp just swerved off the road, actually crashing into a tree and setting off his airbag. Solis and Halac followed, Halac on foot into the forest with Solis posted up with the cars just in case anyone came along.

  Halac was fearless, a maniac. It wasn’t advisable to pursue alone, but even way back then, Halac lived on the edge. This leech was connected to one of the BloodStar, not Sabian but still a prize. Solis was searching the leech’s ride when the patrol car pulled up, and a burly broad got out, shining her flashlight in his eyes.

  "Step away from the vehicle."

  Solis was trained, and hadn’t acquired the disdain he now felt for highway patrol (this was the inciting incident, after all), and complied. With his hands up, he said, "I’m Detective Baronado from Spokane, homicide. We have been in pursuit of this vehicle and my partner is in the woods taking him back into custody. I’m lowering my right hand now to get my credentials from my back pocket."

  "The fuck you are," said the officer in a deep-south accent that didn’t jive with the Pacific Northwest locale. "You just keep them hands right where they are, and I’ll be deciding who’s who and what’s what."

  Solis kept his hands raised, cussing under his breath. The last thing they needed was this brick wall of a bitch calling it in. She still had her light in his eyes so he couldn’t read her badge—couldn’t really see anything, all pumped and strung out on high-alert adrenaline. He hadn’t heard anything from the forest and it was entirely possible the leech already made an appetizer out of Halac and was doubling back for the main course.

  "Ma’am, could you please lower your light. I’d like to be able to use all five senses. We’re dealing with a real monster here, and I’m sure you can appreciate the vulnerable position you’re putting me in by disabling my sight." It was a hundred percent the God’s honest truth.

  "Shut the fuck up, turn around, and put both palms on the hood of the car."

  Solis looked at her like she’d just offered to suck his dick, kind of like he wasn’t sure what he just heard. "Ma’am, if you’d let me get my credentials, you’d see there’s no need for that."

  At this point, Officer Cuntface pulled her weapon on him, and shouted loud enough to echo. "You will shut your goddamn mouth and put your hands on the hood of the vehicle or so help me, I’ll have you in traction."

  Again her accent struck him as impossible, and again a look of incredulity swept his face. He was supposed to comply in situations like this one. His credentials would check out and even though agents were prepared to deal with uncooperative cops, they so rarely had to it wasn’t as second nature as the training that leapt to the surface when a vamp wanted to chomp your cock and dangle-twins.

  Solis put his hands on the hood of the Porsche, and allowed himself to be cuffed, certain the leech would come strolling out of the woods and he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. Officer Cuntface searched him, pulled a myriad of weapons off his person that were nowhere near standard issue, and began a more invasive search. The fucking bitch cupped his balls, for Christ sake, squeezed even, forcing a little yelp from his lungs that made him sound like a pansy-ass.

  When she was done, she shoved him into the back of her patrol car where he landed face down on the back seat, cheek resting on vinyl and lungs working hard to deal with the pain of having his testicles tested like a fucking avocados in a supermarket.

  Officer Cuntface walked to the front of her patrol car, heaved her macaroni and cheese ass onto the cheek-grooved seat, and began the process of arranging all her accoutrements so she could imperialize the entire front bench with her girth. She pulled a metal clipboard from the dash, made a few notes, and set it on the sliver of seat beside her. When she took hold of the radio wound through various channels of her uniform and resting on her shoulder, Solis knew he’d be hostage for at least an hour—an hour Halac didn’t have.

  "This is unit seventeen. I’ve got possible law enforcement officer detained out here on East Badger Road, need confirmation of credentials. Over."

  A crackled voice came back saying, "Copy, Jess. Let me get a pen."

  A goddamn pen? Fucking backwoods police.

  Officer Cuntface, AKA Jess, turned around as far as the rolls in her neck would allow, and said, "Okay, hotshot. Let’s just see what’s what."

  She was given the go ahead, and read off the information from his fake credentials, which she took from his pocket during the violation of his baby makers, and even when the information checked out, she kept him restrained in the back of her squad car.

  "We just gonna wait til your partner gets back."

  "Don’t you get it, you ignorant bitch? I check out, and my partner’s out there in the woods with no backup because you’re a fucking man-hater. I’m going to have your badge for this." Solis was spitting pissed and just as helpless.

  "Well, ain’t you just the pitcher of cooperation." Pitcher, not picture. She smiled sugar at him, and Solis wanted to knock the Georgia right out of her mouth. "Where I’m from, son, we treat women with respect." The smile fell from her face. "And where I’m from, ain’t no uniform toting around heat engineered like what you got. So let’s just see how your partner fares out there. I’m a damn fine officer, do say so myself. I know a frog’s ass from a bump in the road, and friend, you ain’t no bump in the road, so I guess you know what that makes you."

  "What the
fuck are you talking about?"

  "What I’m saying, young gun, is you ain’t no officer anymore’n I’m Miss Junior Alabama. I don’t care what your bullshit badge says."

  Oddly enough, the first thing that came to Solis’s mind was the fact that she was from Alabama, not Georgia. This thought was followed closely by a purple rage thicker and darker than any swamp from this bitch’s homeland.

  "You fucking cunt." He was practically whispering, expending marathon-level endurance to control himself. "You have no idea what you’re doing. Pretend like your brain is the size of your ass, and use it for just a second. Think about my weaponry. Think about the fact that the credentials checked out. For fuck sake, think about what you’re feeling right now, in the air. There’s a threat all right, a predator you’re not trained to deal with, but I am, and so is my partner out there, but he can’t do it on his own. You need to let me go."

  Solis saw Jess the Cuntface think for a minute, but before the process was complete, another vehicle pulled up behind them. He turned around, and saw salvation. It was Vanguard transport if ever he’d seen one. The darkness made it too hard to see the driver, and they both watched as the door swung open.

  First one leg, then another, and the agent rose to her full height. Solis couldn’t see details yet, but he could tell by her contours that she was definitely xx chromosomed. Her combat boots crunched along the side of the road until they reached Officer Cuntface’s door. The Hunter’s face was obscured by the frame of the patrol car until she leaned over, looked at Solis, and winked. Brown hair, brown eyes, unremarkable and unforgettable at the same time. Solis felt a jolt of energy shoot through his groin, and he reminded himself to focus. Something about female agents drove him wild, especially when they had a head full of silken hair and lips built for sucking.

  She looked to Cuntface, smiled, and said, "I see you have one of my agents detained. We need to operate at full capacity for this mission, officer…" She looked to the badge and name sewn onto Cuntface’s breast pocket. "Officer Miles. I apologize in advance." The agent smiled the same sugar at Cuntface the big bitch had just flashed at Solis, and then shoved a rag to her face.