My sister holds up a finger from her prostrated spot on the floor. “Vaterred down Laussane,” Nythi slurs out, sounding like she was born in the Motherland, instead of what is now known as France.
“Nythi, are you freaking stupid? You”—I point at Soleria as she scrambles backwards on the bed, liquid spilling over the rim of that too-full glass—“You’re done. Give me that.”
“That’s right, ‘Daddy-boy’. Put your female in her place.” Nythi spanks the air and giggles at her own stupidity.
“But it’s soooo good!” Sol whines.
“Damn, Fort’em. You got her like that already?”
Glaring at the annoying imp on the floor, I snatch the glass out of Soleria’s hand and dematerialize it.
She flies off the bed, clumsily colliding with me.
For some reason, that causes Nythi to roar with another round of laughter.
My arms snap around Sol, catching her before she can fall backwards.
Eyes heavy-lidded, Soleria slides her arms around my neck, clearly too drunk to care about the fact that she’s rubbing up on every hard inch of me, her scent killing any brain cells associated with self-control.
“Why didn’t you tell me your sister is a vampire and mated to Kain?” she mumbles, getting nice and comfortable against me.
“You told her about Kain?” I ask the rolling mass of blue hair behind me.
Nythi raises her head off the floor, but not to answer me; to take a nice, healthy gulp from the cup in her hand.
That fucking lush.
Soleria’s soft, soft hand trails up the back of my neck and up into my buzzed cut hair, sending a violent shiver down my spine.
“Fuucck,” I hiss under my breath, biting right through my cheek. Letting my arms fall away from her is the only way to stop myself from crushing her to me while grinding on her like the dog in heat she’s turned me into.
“You also didn’t tell me your mom is the Goddess of freaking Earth.” Sol leans even closer, eyeing my lips with that fixated focus.
My heartbeat pounds in my cock and I swear the room spins from the force of my hunger. Licking my lips, I remind myself that this delicious female is still too breakable to take me.
My sister pops to her feet and begins heading towards the door. “You two need some privacy.”
“Are you trying to get her killed?” I growl over my shoulder before turning back to Sol. Gods damn, she’s so fucking mouthwatering, eyeing my lips like she wants to shove my head between her legs. And I want it, too, damn it. “They’ll be none of that. You, young lady, are going straight to bed.”
Her other hand joins the first, sliding up into the back of my hair and wrecking every nerve on my body. “Then take me to bed.”
No she fucking didn’t.
My dick’s literally trembling, leaking like a motherfucker inside my jeans.
Laughing, my treacherous sister throws a little wave before exiting the room. “You heard her brother. Take her to bed.”
Freaking shit.
Ignoring Sol’s attempts to pull my head down to hers, I lift her up into my arms. “I said no, Sol. You’re going to bed. Once you’re immortal, we’re so revisiting this fucking conversation.”
The next day
- Earth, Astoria, Queens, NY (USA)
SOLERIA
What is it with immortals and leather? Even the fucking gods have a fetish.
Not that the sexy echelon of immortality looks wrong in dead animal skin. They rock it, actually, and I’m a connoisseur of the eye-candy. A straight-up glutton for the sexy. It usually makes me very, very happy.
But, as I stand here, eyes sucking in that massive expanse of male back covered in black leather, happiness is the last thing I’m feeling.
In other words: my hormones are delirious, drooling, and coming all over themselves.
Especially since yesterday, when they joined forces with the Laussane and had me writhing against all those muscles like the whore I’m turning into.
I, however, am ready to kill a motherfucker.
Nevermind that said mofo is a god and there’s no way that my humanity and I can take him down.
“Can you please move away from the damned door?”
The sun hits the top of his fucking head, glinting lovingly off his close-cropped, navy blue hair as he turns his head just enough to stare at me over his shoulder. “No.”
“What the fuck you mean ‘no’?” The sun is in love with the God of the Hunt. In love. As much as the moon is. It breaks through another passing cloud, aiming a well-placed shaft of light into one of his light-gray eyes.
He disguises his eyes just like all the other gods do when they go out in public.
And it does abso-fucking-lutely nothing to lessen his appeal.
Why the fruck did he have to cut his hair like that?
My aforementioned, treacherous hormones take out their little notepad and decide to recatalogue the yumminess before me. Short, navy-blue, close cropped faux-hawk. Light-gray eyes. Dark-blue jeans. Leather jacket.
And six-feet-three-inches of pure godly muscle.
I glare at him harder. “I hate you.”
Ianthen doesn’t move from his stance—arms crossed, legs braced apart, and muscles tensed for battle. “Baby, I’ve already told you. We need to do something about this sexual frustration of yours. I’m tired of being mistreated when I’m more than ready to help with that.”
“Dumb ass! What happened to the whole ‘I’m still human’ bit?”
When what I should really be reiterating is how sex between us is never, ever, ever, ever going to happen.
My pussy throbs, all oh yeah?
Changes. Lots of changes.
First one? That haircut.
That-motherfucking-haircut that took his looks from animalistic-territory straight into beast-ready-to-kill-annihilate-and-own-everything-in-my-path.
Second change? His attitude. It’s gone from friendly-to-fuck-me with no warning in sight. Just a snap of his fingers and boom. Poor Soleria De Leon and her weak, human body are now the subject of his lust.
Okay, fine. I’m not an idiot. I’ll admit I kind of already was before, but now it’s blatant.
All that’s missing is him coming straight out with the magic words. Sol, I want to fuck you.
My inner thighs literally shake as I imagine him saying that outside a dream in his rough, accented voice.
“You’re doing it again, baby,” he croons over his shoulder. “Lusting after me.”
That fucking bastard.
He catches the salt shaker I throw at his head in a flash, arrogantly showing off his powers again. Doesn’t even turn around to do so, either.
Thank God the restaurant is empty.
“Ugghh. I want you gone. Send Cyake.”
Ianthen’s jaw twitches at that. “Over my dead body. So his face can end up squished between your tits again? And he’s now a spoken-for male. Respect those boundaries.”
“No he isn’t. His symptoms haven’t fully hit and supposedly she hasn’t accepted him yet.”
That low, nasty growl leaks through the air.
I try really hard to hide my smile at that. Honestly, I do. “Besides, I already told you,” I say airily, turning around and heading back to the counter. “Cyake was completely innocent in that situation. He didn’t put his face there.”
“I know. You fucking put it there,” he growls under his breath.
He’s turned back around, giving me his back, so I don’t bother hiding my grin. I have no freaking clue why Casanova over there is being possessive, but I won’t deny I like it. He’s driving me freaking mad, so using whatever weapon I can against him is so damn satisfying. A weakness to exploit. And when I say “exploit”, I truly mean “abuse to my heart’s content.”
Human, four. God, zero.
“I was just giving him a hug.”
“Mortal, stop insulting my intelligence.”
This time I do laugh at the idea of him having a
ny intelligence. “Honestly, Ianthen, you’re scaring away the customers.”
As if to contradict me, the Fates cackle their asses off and send two young, blonde girls walking by the corner. The moment they see Ianthen standing at the restaurant’s door, they all but trip over themselves to get closer.
They don’t look older than twenty.
Move, bitch. Move the fuck away from that door. Now.
He doesn’t.
My mouth falls open at the nerve as I’m forced to watch those girls giggle and bat their eyelashes at him. Both of them introduce themselves breathlessly.
Melissa and Jamie are asking to get smacked.
I can’t see Ianthen’s facial expression since he’s still facing away from me, but I’ll bet the restaurant and my house that he’s soaking that shit in.
Just as he always does.
Just as he’s been doing for over ten-thousand years.
Thank you for reminding me why you can’t be the one to help me out with my “problem”.
Asshole.
I’m unreasonably annoyed at the situation and I know it. With a huff, I pick up the flowers I left on the counter.
Nick’s latest delivery.
With each one, the arrangements are getting larger and larger.
This one’s almost four-feet-tall.
Ianthen’s head shoots around at the sound of me grabbing them, eyes landing on the flowers in my hands, and his nostrils flare. “I told you to throw those away,” he says, real slow, something that sounds suspiciously like a threat in his tone.
The two young girls that are fawning over him go wide-eyed, eyes locked on him.
But Ianthen . . . Ianthen is staring at me.
Feeling ridiculously triumphant, I re-fill the vase with water and plop the flowers back into it with a nice, big smile. Then, still smiling, I raise the vase and place it on the highest part of the counter.
Where everyone will be able to see it.
Oh, and right next to the coffee cake he loves to eat so much.
“God damn it, Sol.” Ianthen’s tone makes the girls gasp. He doesn’t pay them any mind. Looking determined, he spins around and begins heading towards my poor, innocent flowers.
It isn’t lost on me that the two girls watch him leave wistfully.
That triumph flares again, a completely childish but heady emotion. “Ianthen!” I snatch the vase off the counter and rush around the other side.
Kitchen.
If I go in there with the rest of the staff, surely he’ll leave my flowers alone.
Yeah, because this has nothing to do with getting him as far away from those girls as possible.
“Give them to me, Soleria.” He holds out his hand as he advances.
“They’re innocent flowers, Ianthen. Shouldn’t you respect a fellow life form, or something like that? I’m sure your mom wouldn’t like you attacking precious plant life.” I hug the vase to my chest, walking backwards now.
He appears before me in the blink of an eye.
With an eep, I plaster my back to the wall, peeking at him from between the stems.
First one hand presses against the wall slowly, followed by the other. “Two seconds, Soleria, and you either throw out those flowers that douchebag sent you willingly or I’m doing it for you.” He leans closer and I can’t help it.
Whimpering, I bite down on my lip, blood rushing in my ears.
His pupils snap wide, eyes flaring with lust—
“Um, excuse me. I’m here about the ‘help wanted’ sign?”
Cursing under his breath, he eases back and we both turn to the sound of that voice.
“Fucking hell,” Ian hisses, eyes wide.
I don’t blame him.
“Damn it. Can’t we catch a freaking break? Just one day without some freaky shit happening?”
I’m still struck stupid by the sight of the young girl standing at the door. Straight blue-black hair, glowing hazel eyes, and a resemblance that’s undeniable.
“What is Cy’s girl doing here?” I ask him in a low voice.
“Sol, that might look like Nylicia,” he answers for my ears only. “But that’s not Spari.”
Chapter 19
SOLERIA
“Y ou gave her the job,” Ianthen comments.
“Of course I did. Did you forget who she looks like? Clearly she needs to work here. Also, you heard her. Izabella takes care of her mom.”
Ianthen crosses his arms from his spot by one of the windows. “It’s what she didn’t say, and I couldn’t get out of her, that has me curious.”
I wipe down one of the tables, relieved to have help as of tomorrow, even if it’s coming in the form of a teenaged, Nylicia-lookalike. “What do you mean what you couldn’t get out of her?”
“She has no aura, just like Spari. And I couldn’t penetrate her mind at all.”
The clothe falls out of my hand and onto the table. “Explain.”
“It’s called an Etaeryb. A connection that allows us to read minds. I tried it on her and I got nothing.”
Unholy fury blows up at the base of my spine. “You’ve been inside my frucking head?”
“Easy there.” Just like that day back in my kitchen, he holds his hands up in a show of surrender. “Vicious female, I haven’t been in your head. Haven’t even tried.”
Suspicious, I raise an eyebrow. “Why haven’t you tried?”
His perfect lips pull down in an affronted pout. “You mean other than the fact that I respect your privacy?”
My eyebrow arches higher.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “That will of yours is too impenetrable to try anyway. Straight-up Karvite.”
“What?”
“One of the strongest metallic alloys we know of.”
For some reason, that pleases me. A lot. Smiling, I turn back to the table and finish loading the tray. “Help me start closing up so we can go across the street to the park. I need to do that spell.”
“Sol, you don’t need to go to the park and do a purification spell. You have me for that.”
“I do. We all need it. Cleansing equals protection. You’re the one that doesn’t need to be there.”
“You don’t, either, female. That’s my point.”
“Yes, I do.” I pick up the tray and attempt to ignore the hulking frame trying to dominate my peripheral vision.
Yeah. Okay. Ignore. Bastard’s huge, he’s wearing leather. He’s sitting insolently against the wall, leaning back like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Jerk cut his fucking hair into a faux-hawk and it’s fucking with my concentration!
“You’re looking sort of flustered, baby girl.” Ianthen smirks at my glare, the kind of smirk that probably fells lesser women than me.
Knees weak. Don’t judge them.
“Shut the fuck up and help me close the place so we can go across the street. And before you start complaining, know that nothing you say will stop me. Too many freaky things are going on and I won’t feel right until I do this spell.”
“Telling you. Fucking Karvite,” he mumbles under his breath, finally rising to his feet.
I stick my tongue out at his retreating back.
“Just make sure no one comes around as I do this,” I tell Ianthen as I kneel before the large red maple tree. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem, since you guys all had a battle-royale here a month ago, and somehow no one—”
The air around me shifts, shimmering with pure power.
Confused, I look around.
“Gnetica,” Ianthen explains from behind me.
Ah, that makes sense. Of course. How else to make sure absolutely no one sees what I’m up to?
Except, that’s the same sensation I’ve been feeling lately, usually when he’s . . . Now wait a damn second.
My eyes narrow as I stare up at him from my kneeling position.
Arms crossed, he stares down at me. “Do your thing, baby girl.”
Freaking hate when he calls me that.
>
Turning from him, I place my hands on the trunk of the tree and close my eyes, reaching deep into the Earth with my mind. The shift within me is almost instant, pure energy rising from the ground beneath.
Becoming lost in it, I envision my new friends, willing the white light from the Earth around them and purifying them of any negative energy—
And that’s when I hear Ianthen’s hissed out curse.
“Holy fucking shit.”
Startled, I stumble backwards away from the tree, falling on my ass. Heart racing, I look up at Ianthen.
He’s standing behind me, arms limp at his sides, slack-jawed. Those wide eyes look me over, as if he’s seeing me anew. “Sol, you’re a—” A rustling sound and a loud, beastly exhale snap his attention away from me. His stare flies up, zooming in on something in front of us.
A wolf.
Fucking hell, it’s a huge, black wolf, one too large to be natural.
And those glowing ice-blue eyes . . .
“Lycaon,” Ian snarls behind me, his tone changing, sounding almost exactly like that animal.
A blink of an eye, and he’s gone, replaced by a . . . a . . .
The massive, navy-blue creature lets out an even more beastly snarl and takes off in the direction of the other wolf, nothing more than a blur to my human eyes.
Confirming what my struggling brain already suspected.
The other wolf vanishes just as fast, but all I can think about is the one that ran from me. The navy-blue one with the white eyes.
“Oh God, oh God,” I mumble, fighting to realign this new facet of reality that’s been shoved at me. Don’t know how long passes, but out of nowhere, the navy-blue wolf is back, standing mere feet from me.
No. Not the wolf. Ianthen.
As if my thinking his name alone calls him, he changes back to his regular form and into his clothing, so fast that I barely get a glimpse of his naked skin before it’s covered up again.
He throws me an apologetic look and turns back around to look out over the park one more time, clearly still searching for this Lycaon.
Jesus. Lycaon? As in from the myth? An inner voice answers the question with a resounding yes.
Although the might mean Zeus is real too—and I can’t think about that right now. No way.
Blood Drenched Conquest (Ryze Book 3) Page 17