The Kindred s-3

by L. L. Foster

  Unhooking her seat belt and, sliding over to him, she growled, “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “But . . . ” Tension vibrated off her. Her hot breath caressed his neck. Her eyes fairly glowed.

  Frowning, Luther concentrated on not wrecking his car. “You said you had other plans.”

  “Fuckin’ A.” She flattened a shaking hand to his abdomen. “I need you to have sex with me.”

  Luther almost hit the curb. After righting the car, he dared another quick look, and saw her lick her lips. “You’re kidding.”

  She put her nose to his temple, nuzzled against him, and breathed in with a rough moan. “I need it.” Her hand fisted his shirt just above the waistband of his jeans. “I need you.”

  Luther’s brain scrambled. Of all the scenarios he’d envisioned, this wasn’t among them.

  Steering wasn’t easy, not with Gaby moving against him, her own heated scent of arousal filling the interior of the car.

  Damn. She wanted him. She could have him. No problem. “I can be home in a few minutes.” He pressed down on the accelerator. “Put your seat belt back on.”

  She bit his earlobe. “I’m not sure I can wait that long. I need to burn off steam. Now.”

  “Now?” Suddenly too hot, Luther fumbled for the switch on the heater. The passing landscape showed enough late-night bustle to keep him from pulling over to accommodate her. “I don’t think—”

  She put an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, grazed his skin with her sharp little teeth. “It’s creeping up on me, Luther, taking over, suffocating me.” Her voice caught. “I need it. Now, Luther. Please.”

  No way would he deny her. She was in a bad way; that was obvious. And . . .

  And who the hell was he kidding?

  It had nothing to do with his decision to pull off onto a dark, deserted side street. Gaby had him so turned on, it wasn’t safe for him to be behind the wheel anyway.

  He slammed the car into park, turned the lights off, locked the doors, and reached down for the lever to adjust his seat back.

  It’d been a hell of a long time since he’d made out in a car, but he wasn’t so old that he didn’t remember how.

  Before he’d even settled back, Gaby was over him, straddling his lap, her hands holding his head and her mouth on his.

  In a fevered state of lust, she kissed and bit at him, and made him nuts. He loved her wild like this.

  He loved her in those rare moments when she was gentle, too.

  Fighting it had done him no good, because, damn it, he just plain loved her.

  Always.

  Gabrielle Cody was the one and only for him. And giving in felt good.

  “Stupid bucket seats,” Luther complained when she let him up for air.

  Urgent with demand, she put her head back and moved against him, moaning, hurting with lust. Luther shoved up her shirt and found her heaving breasts, her nipples already taut and swollen.

  “God Almighty, Gaby.” He lowered his mouth to her, drew one stiff peak in against his teeth, teased with his tongue.

  Her hands clenched hard in his hair and she cried out. She was already so far gone that foreplay was the last thing she wanted. If he put her through it, it’d only be torment, and she had enough of that in her life.

  “You have to get out of your jeans.” When she didn’t appear to register his instruction, Luther hooked a forearm under her backside and drew her up to her knees. Keeping her there, he fumbled with the snap and zipper on her jeans and managed to work them down enough that he could wedge his hand inside, touch her.

  Sink two fingers into her.

  They both stilled, and Gaby sank back down to his lap on a shuddering moan.

  When he moved his fingers in her, she raped his mouth, all the while rocking against him, on his fingers, clenching and groaning in escalating heat.

  It was awkward, but Luther managed. For Gaby, he’d do anything.

  A porch light across the street came on, and out of the corner of his eye Luther watched, on alert. Gaby stayed oblivious, and that, too, was nice. Her keen awareness of everything and everyone normally precluded any personal relaxation against her plight with evil.

  The door opened and a cat went inside. The light turned off again.

  For once, with him, Gaby let her enjoyment override her vigilance. To Luther, that felt like complete trust. Combined with her sexual enjoyment, it was enough to build on.

  “I need more,” she groaned in frustration. “More.”

  Luther levered away from her. “Get your jeans off.” He removed his hand and held her back. “Gaby, listen to me. Shh. Listen.”

  Eyes heavy and dark, she stared at his mouth.

  “Jeans,” Luther said. “Off.”

  “Okay.” She fell over the console into her own seat, and without her usual grace, wrangled the denim down her long legs. It was a sight to see, Gaby perpendicular to him, scrunched on her back in the narrow passenger seat, her legs up in the air . . .

  She shoved everything onto the floor and came over him again. “Now you. Hurry up.”

  While he worked himself free, Gaby kissed him, his mouth, the bridge of his nose, his chin, and his jaw. She licked along his throat and purred. “You always taste so good, Luther.”

  Before too much longer, he’d get her to taste him everywhere. His heart hammered at the thought.

  But not here. Not in his damned car. And not in a suburb.

  Her impatience made it difficult to get the condom rolled on, and as soon as Luther had it in place, she came over him again. Locking eyes with him, her hands clasped on his neck, she sank down onto him—and gave a vibrating groan of pleasure. “Oh God.”

  Rigid from his hairline to his toes, Luther knew he wouldn’t last long. But then, he wouldn’t need to. Gaby had learned enough to set her own pace, and she wasted no time in riding him hard, rocking the car, fogging up the windows, panting and moaning and clenching so tight around him.

  He measured the nearness of her release by the bite of her nails on his shoulders. He loved the sting she inflicted. He loved the out-of-control sounds she made.

  He loved her fervor. He loved her.

  Acknowledging it felt better and better. So damn right.

  “Gaby.” Locking his teeth, Luther put his head back and strained for control, for just a minute more until she . . .

  Moaning loudly, hugging the air out of him, she came long and hard before going all soft, falling against him until he held her in his arms.

  Luther opened his mouth on her throat, immersing himself in her scent, her taste, the incredible feel of her, and it was enough. Clasping her hips, he drove her down on him even as he thrust up, burying himself in her as deep as he could, wanting to be a part of her, to share her burdens—to steal her heart.

  Release surged through him, grinding his muscles, shaking his core. As he let himself go, Gaby stroked his hair, making soft sounds of pleasure.

  The lethargy in his bones accompanied his still-heavy breaths and knocking heartbeat. He opened his eyes and groaned with the repletion of it. Through the fogged windshield, Luther saw ominous clouds scuttle across the sky, filling the area with creeping moon shadows. Somewhere a dog barked, the sound hollow with distance.

  Loving Gaby insulated him from all of it. He felt at peace, whole, and triumphant and renewed.

  It was a moment he’d remember forever as a demonstrable change in his future. Gaby had admitted to needing him, wanting him. The concession would forever be etched into his brain.

  A deluge of emotion engulfed Luther, and he hugged Gaby to his heart. She stirred herself, but only to get more comfortable. Neither of them felt pressed to move, to leave the dubious privacy of an idling car parked at the curb of a quiet middle-class neighborhood.

  He remained inside her, but not so much now. He needed to remove the condom, to restore order to their clothes. But . . . he didn’t. Not yet.

  After a time, as their body heat faded, Luther reached out and adjusted th
e thermostat again.

  Lazily, Gaby sat back on his thighs and studied him. Luther relinquished a slight smile at her scrutiny. “Better?”

  “Mmm.” With her fingertips, she touched his bottom lip. In veneration to the mood, she spoke in the quietest whisper. “You did good, cop. That at least took the edge off.”

  Her insistence on calling him “cop” usually struck him as an insult. This time, he took it as an endearment. Smiling wider, he brought her down for a soft kiss. “I’m glad.”

  Her nose touching his, she frowned and said, “I’m still angry with you, though.”

  “We’ll work through it.” Luther had faith in that.

  A soft sigh brushed his mouth. “It’ll require more sex.”

  “What a hardship.” He smoothed a hand over her bottom, along her thigh. She had the softest skin, and a very toned physique without being overly muscular. “But I think I can handle it.”

  “I wasn’t really giving you a choice.”

  He landed one more grinning kiss onto her mouth, and then lifted her over into her own seat. “Put your pants on.”

  “Why?” She rearranged her shirt to cover her breasts, and then chafed her arms to ward off the growing chill. “They’re just going to come off again as soon as I get you alone.”

  Luther handed her jeans and panties to her. “Let’s just say I’ll drive better without the distraction of your nudity.”

  Gaby grumbled, but obliged. Her comfort with nudity turned him on. Her possessiveness toward him did, too.

  After rearranging himself, Luther put the car into gear and turned on the headlights. He turned around in a driveway and headed back to the main road, anxious to get home.

  If it weren’t for a blood drinker turned cannibal, and Gaby’s devout compulsion to eradicate the lunatic, he’d feel like the luckiest man alive.

  God only knew when catastrophe would strike again, so he wanted to take advantage of his private time with Gaby while he could.

  Chapter 12

  Fabian went down the steps to the basement of the old house. Already he’d pocketed his porcelain caps, leaving his jagged fangs revealed. Anticipating the treat that awaited him, saliva filled his mouth.

  The woman would be physically weak now, crazed with fear, desperate for any salvation.

  He’d promise her none. He wanted only to drink from her, to relish her warm blood for as long as she lasted. If he took too much, if he drained her, well then, she’d make a rewarding meal for the others. He had a new recipe he wanted to try out anyway.

  After that hideous excuse for a rave where he’d suffered not only the disturbing encounter with the girl and her man, but also a quick trip to the police station thanks to an absurd bust, he had a desperate need for savage release.

  Breathing hard, his body throbbing, he rounded a corner, turned on a light, and found . . .

  Empty shackles on the wall.

  Disbelieving, he stared at the empty wall where his captive should have been, but wasn’t.

  With consternation, he took in the scene. Blood trailed along the floor, and at a small puddle he saw the IV tubing that had been inserted into her, and was now uselessly thrown aside.

  Precious blood dripped from the tubing, stained the concrete floor. Hollow shock became an inferno of rage.

  She’d fucking escaped. But how?

  “Fabian?” Panting from exertion, a young man trotted down the steps, talking a mile a minute. “They got away from me! Like you said, I followed them but at a distance. But they took a lot of turns and it was so damn dark . . . I’m sorry.”

  In his rage, Fabian didn’t quite comprehend. He turned with burning eyes to stare at the man.

  “I . . . I didn’t come straight here. I drove around for more than an hour first, just in case anyone was on to me. But no one was. This time of night, the streets are almost empty.”

  Thundering past the man, Fabian charged up the steps. At the moment, he didn’t care about whether or not his lackey had been able to follow Link and Gaby. Whether he wanted to or not, he knew he’d see those two again soon enough. At her convenience, not his.

  But damn her, his curiosity had forced him to agree to her timetable.

  Somehow he knew that peculiar bitch beyond recognizing her physically. In some bizarre way, he felt an affinity to her. He’d have to be in her presence to absorb her energy, and then he could figure it out. There’d be an added benefit involved: in stealing her light, he would also vitiate her ability.

  And so he’d agreed to her demands.

  He wasn’t worried about either of them connecting him to the current overblown headlines. No, given how Gaby had demolished innocent people, she had no connection to the law at all.

  Gaby was a freak—and one way or another, Fabian would uncover his bond to her, even if he had to consume her to divine the connection.

  But right now, he had something more important that required his attention.

  For one of the few times in his adult life, Fabian suffered a loss of aplomb. In a mostly empty main room, he found the others assembled, awaiting his direction.

  Only two of them had been at the rave, but as per his rules, they’d both been sober and free of drugs.

  A man had to keep a clear head in order to recruit others for a meal.

  Behind Fabian, the man who’d followed him back upstairs said again, “I . . . I’m sorry, Fabian.”

  So furious that he couldn’t see straight, Fabian raised a hand for silence. As they all waited, breaths held with anxiety, he took his time replacing the caps over his teeth.

  His hands shook, and that infuriated him. He needed to be precise to expedite the problem.

  And to mete out punishment.

  Marginally composed, he faced the small crowd of four. “Our meal has escaped.”

  At his announcement, panicked inhalations sounded.

  The man behind him sidled away to join the others, feeling a false sense of safety in numbers. Fools. Idiots.

  Eyes burning and fury thrumming, Fabian studied the five of them, trying to divine the guiltiest. “One of you is to blame.”

  Nervous murmurs whispered in the air. The group tightened.

  “Who saw her last?” Fabian asked.

  Three men and one woman looked to the young nurse. She blanched and shook her head in frantic denial.

  Fabian saw it in her eyes. Ah, yes. She was the one who’d fucked up his plans and put them all at risk.

  She’d been appointed with obtaining the anticoagulants for their captive. Obviously, she couldn’t go free. Not now.

  He swelled with resolve. “Shari, isn’t it?”

  She tried to back up, but ran into the others. “Yes.” Her gaze shot this way and that, seeking an avenue of escape. Conspicuous culpability trembled through her limbs.

  Fabian smelled her intoxicating fear. He breathed it in and let it infuse his objective, transforming him and how he reacted to the loss.

  Holding out a hand toward her, he commanded softly, “Come here, Shari.”

  The others shuffled back, anxious to separate from the realm of punishment. Shari went pale enough for alarm; if she fainted, what fun would that be?

  Annoyed by her lack of immediate obedience, Fabian snapped, “Bring her to me.”

  The others showed the extant deference he expected. Against her frail protests, they dragged Shari to stand right before him.

  While she remained contained by human fetters, Fabian touched her face. “Lying will only exacerbate my temper, child. I suggest we get through this peaceably. Yes?”

  Eyes flared so that the whites showed all the way around, Shari gave a faint nod.

  “Excellent.” Fascinated, Fabian touched the wildly throbbing pulse in her throat. Her blood pumped hard, inciting him, pressing him to haste. “You gave her the anticoagulants?”

  A fat, glistening tear slid down Shari’s cheek. Lips quivering, she nodded. “Yes.”

  The most appealing facet to Shari’s personality
was her extraordinary urge to give pleasure to men. Offered the opportunity, she would willingly scar herself just to make a man smile.

  Knowing this, Fabian stroked her hair. “You’ve been a valuable asset to me, Shari. I hope you know that.”

  “I try,” she said, and gratitude seeped color back into her pallid face.

  “Tell me now, how did she get free?” Fabian did his utmost to sound sympathetic. “It was an accident, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. I would never have let her go without your permission.”

  “Of course not.” He smiled. “What happened?”

  No longer straining against the hard hands gripping her, Shari relaxed. “I gave her the anticoagulant, as you said to do, and she revived enough to tell me how uncomfortable she was. Because her arms were chained up too high, her toes barely reached the floor.”

  A vivid image flooded his brain. “She was straining? Her muscles stretched taut?” A curl of lust slithered into his guts. Such a delicious picture she would have made.

  “Yes.” Shari lowered her eyes in apology. “I only unfastened the main chain so I could loosen it to give her more slack.”

  As if cattle needed comfort? An edge entered his tone. “And?”

  Frowning as if she still didn’t quite understand how it had happened, Shari swallowed. “She took me by surprise, Fabian. She was stronger than I expected, given the state of her body.”

  “Fear is a potent thing.”

  “That must be it, because she struck me and ran, yanking the chain right out of my hand. I was dazed. I swear, Fabian. I tried to go after her, but my head was spinning . . . ”

  “My poor girl.” Sifting his fingers through her hair, over her skull, Fabian located a large lump. “Oh my. She did strike you hard, didn’t she?” He pressed a thumb to the spongy lump and felt Shari flinch with pain.

  “I . . . I think the wrist manacle got me. It felt like she’d hit me with a pipe.”

  Working his thumb over the painful swelling, he saw her eyes water, her lips tighten.

  But she didn’t protest. Not Shari. No, if he wanted to hurt her, if he took enjoyment in that—and he did—then she would suffer him gladly.