Voracious Vixens, 13 Novels of Sexy Horror and Hot Paranormal Romance

by Travis Luedke

  The two remaining thugs who had escaped his spin move came in from the front and right simultaneously. The man to his right reached him first. With an open-handed shove, Aaron sent him flying back through the air. The man landed sprawled on his back, his skull cracked on the asphalt beneath him. He isn’t getting up any time soon.

  Aaron stared in fascination at the powerful effect of a simple one-handed push. As he gawked, the man in front of him dropped low and hit Aaron squarely in a wrestler’s tackle. His attention snapped into focus. He instinctively twisted with his legs splayed out wide for balance. Then he flung the attacker out to his side with an instantaneous pivot and shoved hard with both hands.

  His maneuver spun them around completely, his attacker’s momentum flowing past and out the other direction. The thug went flying through the air to land on the pavement face first with a crunchy thud. Aaron stood solidly on his feet, facing the opposite direction. His graceful redirect had turned him around.

  All five men were down on the pavement hurting. Aaron instinctively wanted to fight to the death, to crush and slice their feeble bodies to pieces as he drank them dry. He tasted the scents of their blood, fear, and adrenaline. They smelled like food.

  He shook his head in attempt to break the powerful bloodlust desire surging through his body. His fangs extended fully, mouth wet with venom, ready to feast upon their flesh. He could kill them right now. Drain them of liters of blood in mere seconds. He’d be gone before one of the punks outside the liquor store across the street could finish calling 911. It was so tempting. And it would be so easy. No one would ever know it was him. No one could identify him in this dark, shadowy area of the street. Nothing but a white guy in jeans and dark shirt. The perfect moment for a couple quick kills.

  He fought with himself, an internal battle of wills against an urge so powerful he could barely contain it. He growled and snarled, looking back and forth at these slug-like, slow moving cattle, struggling with the compulsion to rend and tear flesh. He finally made the snap decision. He redirected his energy into flight, racing back down the alley he had emerged from earlier. In his hurry to escape before he killed someone, he knocked down the man in his path who’d just regained his feet. As he bowled the man over, he heard the crackle-snap of bones breaking. The thug was nothing more than limp flesh against Aaron’s charging force. Five of them had been no match for him. The outcome was determined before the confrontation ever began.

  He sped down the streets, heading in the direction of home. His powerful bloodlust burned, calling him to smash, tear and rend flesh. He began seeking out new prey. Several heartbeats thumped nearby, ripe for tapping. He sensed all that wonderful juicy goodness just begging to be slurped down. Reason reasserted in his mind, and he realized what he was doing as he snuck up on a man and woman crouched in the alley with their smoking crack pipe. He barely stopped himself at the last moment, running off down the alley in the other direction.

  Though he wanted to go home, get off the streets for a few minutes, away from the food stench of people, he couldn’t return to Michelle with all this tension singing through his body. He stopped in the alley two blocks from home seeking a target for his aggression. The only thing available that wouldn’t result in death and mutilation was a steel dumpster sitting against the concrete wall of the alley.

  He glanced around to verify there were no witnesses. Having finally found an outlet for his aggression, he funneled it all into that ugly, squatting steel dumpster. He hit it full bore, holding nothing back. He smashed it over and over with his fists, screaming in rage, frustration, and unfulfilled hunger. Each strike left behind a crumpled mess of indentations. As he collapsed the front side of the dumpster, he moved to the left, smashing inward with a barrage of hook punches on each side of the corner until it was so misshapen it no longer resembled a rectangle. The lid popped up at a twisted angle, never again to fit down on the mangled receptacle. The front and side of the poor thing had caved inward like a crushed beer can. The irreparable condition of the dumpster testified to the intensity of his frustration. The green-painted steel had absorbed Aaron’s crushing force far better than those unfortunate gang members.

  Knuckles abraded and raw, sliced open, he watched the damage knit back together right before his eyes. He stared in creeped-out fascination as his knuckles healed up to little pink welts in a matter of minutes. A few minutes and the flesh had completely rejoined over the cuts, leaving only a slight raw spot as evidence of his tantrum. The miracle of vampiric regeneration captured his attention long enough to calm him down. He regained some badly needed serenity. Finally, he could go home and spend another night beneath the yoke of his master.

  The dumpster workout session had mostly satisfied his desire to lash out. He no longer felt the overwhelming need for violence. The incident proved a nice little distraction. His new concern was that Michelle might learn of his misadventures in the street, causing another point of contention between them. He focused on slowing down his breathing and closed his mind securely within his vault prior to entering the apartment.

  He knew she sensed his tension, but wasn’t aware of the new source for it. She attempted to make an opening. “Are you ready to talk about this problème?”

  He clammed up, not wanting to betray his actions to her inadvertently, but a sliver of irritation slipped through the vault door. Bullshit, she knew exactly what was wrong ... her. Despite this spike of emotion he answered coldly, “I’m fine. Everything is fine ... Are we going to feed soon?”

  He was hungry for blood. The sooner they fed the better.

  He monitored her thoughts closely as Michelle considered pressuring him to draw out the unspoken issues between them. He read her concern, she worried he was a too edgy, volatile. She let it go, for now. “Oui, another night club. You need more practice with control. Get dressed. I will be ready soon.”

  He didn’t respond. He changed quickly and stood at the door waiting unobtrusively. Beyond the need to feed, he had no excitement or anticipation for their outing. Another evening of nightlife tethered to his master.

  CHAPTER 17

  Michelle watched Aaron as he kept his distance from her, cold and sterile, going along to get along. After three nights like this, she reached the limit of her patience for his brooding silence. She had attempted to engage him in conversation but he blocked her, refusing to speak unless asked a direct question. His mind remained closed, not a hint of his thoughts. Only the slightest taint slipped past his barrier once in a while. These small glimpses of his thoughts never contained anything positive.

  He was going sour fast.

  Something needed to change soon before they reached an impasse where she might be forced to take action. She might have to kill him.

  She learned more from his aura than from their psychic bond. It was streaked with bold colors of anger and resentment. She’d never seen this side of him before. His cold negativity saturated everything. Their time together had become mechanical, holding no elements of friendliness. They went through the motions of meeting their basic feeding impulse then returned to Michelle’s apartment in silence.

  Michelle briefly considered ending it now. She’d done it before. It wasn’t impossible to kill a vampire. Maybe difficult, but not impossible. With her authority of compulsion she held the advantage despite his superior strength and speed. It would be quick, painless. He wouldn’t suffer. Perhaps that was the humane thing to do. He obviously wasn’t happy living under her domination. He looked like he was ready to take her head off at any moment. Maybe it was wise to strike first before he turned on her.

  He sat at the kitchen table in front of her laptop, his attention absorbed by the Internet. She flexed her razor sharp claws and reached for him. He had his back turned, his beautiful shirtless torso exposed to her attack. She could do it so quick he’d never see or feel a thing. She envisioned the move in her mind’s eye, marshaling her nerve to do it. Then he sensed her there right behind him, his breathing quickened
, his heart rate elevated. His aura bled through with colors of anxiety, angst, frustration, lust, and there it was, faint but still recognizable, love. He was fighting with the fact that he still loved her despite everything she’d done to him. His internal battle slipped past the crack in his mental vault. It confirmed what she saw in his aura. He loved her, and resented the fact.

  And he was hurting.

  It occurred to her that she had become the cruel master, abusing her power over him. She remembered being in the same position, enslaved by a sadist. And what was the difference? She had turned sex into a torturous form of punishment. What made her any better than her former master?

  She realized she was to blame for the situation between them. She needed to repair the breach. It was her responsibility. She owed him an apology. But what if he remained cold and aloof? Had she created a monster? Was it too late? What if she’d led him too far down the path of cruelty?

  She wanted the old Aaron back. The one who looked at her with such adoration, not this cold resentful bastard he’d become. She enjoyed him in her life. They were good together. The few happy nights they had spent in her bed were fantastic. The most invigorating moments of the past five decades. She decided to take the initiative to break through to him.

  “We need to talk about what happened the other night.” She stepped around to face him and looked directly into his eyes. “Things cannot remain as they are between us.”

  He didn’t answer. He continued giving her the silent treatment. His emotions boiled behind the door to his mental vault.

  * * * *

  Aaron felt like a dumb animal who still loves its master regardless of the abuse endured. No matter how angry he was, he still loved Michelle––which made him even angrier. He felt like tearing something apart with his bare hands in frustration. The sad truth: he ached to be near her. But what good would it do to behave like an affectionate sop when dealing with a mercenary who uses sex as punishment? So he bottled it up. Anger, resentment, love, lust, desire, a toxic blend.

  Part of his problem was the extreme sexual frustration of being so close to her without intimacy. He’d slept on the floor of her bedroom for two days in a row. If it were possible he would have slept on the couch, but her bedroom was the only place sealed against the daylight. Lying near her, knowing she was there but so distant, had become an especially agonizing form of torture. He wanted to hurt her, love her, fuck her every which way and leave her, all at the same time.

  Instead he did nothing and said nothing. He didn’t have a clue how to talk to her without blowing up in her face.

  “I fear I have made a mess, and I must explain.” She paused considering her words carefully. “My only experience with the male vampire was very disturbing. He was my master, extremely violent, with no control over his passions. The night he turned me, he did horrible things to me. When my body was completely broken and I bled almost to death, only then did he feed me his blood. I soon learned this was normal for him. He abused women all the time. He said this is the vampire’s way because our passions consume all reason. He claimed is worse with the males. They are always mixing sex, blood, and violence. It took me several years to realize he’d been lying to justify his monstrous behavior.”

  Aaron felt disgusted and compassionate with her confession. He wanted to reach out to her, but did not. The hurt and resentment hung between them like a wall.

  He broke his silence. “You believed I would behave this way with Rosalie? Yes, I suppose you did, considering what happened with Lisa.” He still felt ashamed about what he’d done to the dancer. His guilt weighed upon him. And then there was Rosalie, who he’d also hurt inadvertently. He began to see the danger he posed to women, how Michelle might view his indiscretions. He knew with certainty he could have easily killed Lisa or Rosalie, and he might have even enjoyed it.

  “Lisa was nothing compared to what I have seen, what I experienced through my master.” Michelle reached out to him, caressing his face and hair, trying to impart some affection. “I assumed you did something terrible to Rosalie. I never imagined you could have the caution and compassion you showed her. I felt your thoughts and experiences with her. You tried very hard for control.” She stepped closer to him, looking him in the eyes while she continued touching him. He finally stood up and faced her.

  “What you did was beautiful. In a way she loves you for this gift you give her. I must apologize to you.”

  She hadn’t come to shove it in his face like he’d expected. She was asking forgiveness. The dam of emotion started to break, resentment, anger, and hopelessness leaking out. “What difference does it make? You can force me to do whatever you want, whenever you feel like it. Why does it matter what I think?”

  “It matters to me.” She opened her own mental privacy block to let him feel the truth of her words. Her sincerity seemed at odds with her behavior of the last two days, he struggled to believe it.

  His rancor overflowed, pouring all over her. He laughed bitterly. “I shouldn’t really complain, the sex was awesome. A bit painful, but still phenomenal.”

  He stuck her with his nasty, sarcastic barb, but she let it slide, reaching past the negativity, trying to find the other side of his emotions. Michelle stepped up to full body contact nuzzling his neck. She was cheating again, using the power of his attraction for her to wash away all the spite and resentment.

  She whispered in his ear brushing her lips across his skin. “Yes, it was wonderful. Yet I hurt you. I fear I have done something you will never forgive. I was wrong. My only excuse is that I was very angry. I assumed you abused Rosalie. I wanted to punish you, to abuse you. And I did.”

  Her body language unraveled three days of loneliness and frustration. The physical power she held over him with her touch was so complete she didn’t even need to speak, but she continued with her apology anyway.

  “I understand how you feel, but I must beg your forgiveness. I promised I would not abuse you, and I broke my promise.” Michelle began kissing his neck and stroking his back and shoulders and chest.

  She cheated hardcore. Impossible to remain angry when she poured on the affection. All his resentment and pain drained away at the touch of her warm wet lips and fingertips. Second by second, he lost each and every reason he held for being angry. All that remained was love and forgiveness. He could never deny her forgiveness. He couldn’t think of much else when she did this to him. He had no defense for her irresistible seduction.

  “You promise you’re not gonna do that again? You promise you won’t judge me based on assumption? You promise not to abuse your power?” He tried to hold her at arm’s length to give her a serious look.

  She snaked back into his arms, whispering in his ear, flicking her tongue. “I promise. I am forgiven? You still love me?” She wrapped her arms and legs around him, thighs wide open in invitation. It felt heavenly. He could never deny her when she did this to him. “Now we have make-up sex. Oui? I will let you be on top.”

  He couldn’t help but grin like an idiot. “Yes, Michelle, I still love you. I’ve always loved you. But you knew that already.” As they reunited together with the pent-up passions of three nights of abstinence, it didn’t escape his notice that Michelle never once mentioned how she felt about him.

  * * * *

  In bed together, after several rounds of lovingly affectionate sex and mutual biting, Aaron sensed Michelle still had more to confess.

  “Come out with it. There’s something else on your mind.” He propped himself on his elbows, looking her square in the eyes.

  “Oui. There is another reason I feared sending you out into the night without my guidance.” She paused and caressed his back and thighs, collecting her thoughts. “There is a problème I encountered when I was awakened to this life and my control was not very good.”

  She hesitated. He sensed she was unsure whether or not to continue. She had never spoken of this before, and it had happened so very long ago. He cupped her breast, teasing her nippl
e with his thumb as he kissed her on the nose. “Please go on. I’d like to hear more.”

  She nodded and kissed him on the lips while caressing his chest. A very effective distraction. “You know this word feral? You know what it means?”

  “I think so. It has something to do with a wild animal?”

  “Oui, is like that. This can happen to us. We are truly predators with instincts to hunt and kill. Vicious killers. When we lose our reason, when we are consumed in strong emotion, is possible to become feral. Is like a mindless wild animal hunting on instinct, attacking anyone who comes near.” Michelle paused.

  He waited for her to continue. Suddenly her confession seemed very important. He had never considered the ramifications of what she described. But it was all too easy to imagine how it might happen. He had felt a certain wildness lurking inside him recently. It scared him to think such a thing was possible, or that this might have happened to the wonderful creature cuddling with him.

  “In France at the end of the war, WWII, something very traumatic happened to me, and I was lost for a time. I roamed the countryside like a wild animal, hunting at night and hiding in basements or holes in the ground by daylight. I don’t recall this time very clearly. Is like remembering a dream. I know this can happen to you ... if it happened to me.” She drew circles on his chest with her fingertips, avoiding direct eye contact. He sensed her embarrassment. She had never admitted this to anyone before.

  She must be over eighty or ninety years old!

  He couldn’t fathom this beautiful woman caressing his body roaming across France in the middle of the war. Michelle had never told him anything about her life before they met. He was fascinated to learn more. “Please go on.”