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

by Travis Luedke

  “I would never do that ... never in my right mind.” She looked up, pleading with her eyes for understanding.

  She could no longer deny the truth. She’d tried to kill him, and it wasn’t the first time. She had done it before when she’d attacked him in the middle of their lovemaking. It was the luck of the draw and his powerful vampire physique that allowed him to survive.

  Despite all she had done, he wasn’t angry, he forgave her. She never had to ask forgiveness. It had already been given. He loved her too much to push her away.

  It poured out without thought. She blurted the words, unable to hold back the powerful well of emotion, “I love you, Aaron. I need you. I need you to love me. Say it ... tell me how much you love me.” She clung to him in desperation.

  “I love you, Michelle, and I would give you my life if you asked for it.” His mind still wide open, she knew the truth of his words. She need not fight for his blood. He’d have given it to her willingly, if she asked.

  She kissed him with an all-consuming need to prove how deeply she loved and appreciated him.

  * * * *

  Aaron kissed her back and held her tightly as he rolled her over, pinning her beneath him with an unbreakable grip. He stopped his frantic kissing and buried his fangs in her neck with love and passion as he slowly pushed his engorged cock inside her, gradually filing her warm, wet pussy. Being in love made him hard for Michelle constantly. Buried deep inside her, he released his bite and looked her in the eyes, “Say it again!”

  He pinned her arms above her head and trapped her beneath him, her robe wide open exposing her breasts. With a shift of his weight he slammed in deep to her core.

  She gasped in surprise, a spark of fear in her eyes. He held her trapped. With tears of blood welling in her eyes she cried, “Aaron, I beg you, please forgive me! I’m sorry I hurt you!”

  “No, you silly woman, tell me again that you love me! I want to hear you say it over and over!”

  He thrust into her moist, silky heat faster and faster frantically making love to her as she cried out repeatedly, “I love you! I love you!”

  He pounded her with a vigor that shouldn’t exist in a man who had almost died several hours ago.

  “Je t’aime Aaron! Mon amour pour toi est éternel!”

  She drove him mad with her guttural cries of eternal love. They tumbled and rolled over and over, off the bed, across the floor, up against the wall, atop the dresser, and smashed the vanity mirror. Like animals they grunted and growled their way to an explosive peak. “Ahhh plus! plus! plus!” She cried out for more.

  They orgasmed together, biting over and over, and eventually collapsed onto the floor in a heap of twisted limbs.

  She stroked his arms and shoulders and purred into his ear. “I will always love you, Aaron. I want you so much. J'ai envie de toi.”

  Her words filled him with indescribable joy. Her mind wide open to their bond, her love poured over him like a wondrous fountain of light. He had attained nirvana––his universe aligned perfectly.

  A great weight lifted from his shoulders, a burden he hadn’t realized was there. He felt invincible. The world was his for the taking, as long as Michelle remained at his side.

  * * * *

  Michelle meditated upon her new life with its confusion and contradictory feelings. She hadn’t experienced such turmoil of emotion since all those years ago in France. It seemed a lifetime ago. She felt terrified by the uninhibited violence Aaron displayed at the hotel. And more than a little intimidated by the phenomenal physical superiority he demonstrated in those adrenaline-soaked adventures flying through the city at incredible velocity. It had been like entering the mind and body of a wild animal on rampage, with the added boost of unnatural strength.

  Michelle had never imagined how powerful the unchained beast lurking inside Aaron truly was. He could have taken on an army of soldiers. He could definitely take her.

  In spite of her shock, she floated on a wellspring of love and ecstatic joy. He was alive after all he had been through. His humanity and purity of spirit seemed untainted by those horrid experiences. Michelle felt an indescribable happiness at the miracle of Aaron in her life. She feared she didn’t deserve this blessing. His only care upon waking from the massacre of the night before was for her wellbeing. He didn’t fault her for trying to kill him––and damn near succeeding.

  For the first time in many, many years, Michelle felt secure and safe. She was no longer alone in this cold, harsh world. She had a mate, a companion, a protector, a vicious warrior to fight her battles. She truly loved him for all that he was, and more importantly, all that he wasn’t. The aching loneliness of her solitary nightlife had been replaced with a radiant and wonderful existence. He supplied her with a vital, missing ingredient, that ‘je ne sais quoi’, an indescribable something special. A ‘raison d’ être’, a reason for being.

  CHAPTER 22

  As the nights flowed past without incident following the Ramada Inn massacre, Aaron became aware of a new presence co-existing within his psyche, an aggressive, violent personality he dubbed the Predator. The Predator lurked there just below the surface of his mind, waiting. Aaron knew this was the entity that had possessed his faculties, his mind and body, during the attack on the detectives. He recognized this elusive thing within was simply a much baser, primitive part of his own mind.

  The Predator watched people, perusing through their thoughts, intentions, and movements, a live surveillance system keeping tabs on every detail. The Predator made constant assessments out the corner of Aaron’s eyes, checking the exits, watching his back, keeping vigil for any potential threat.

  The Predator seemed to have its own set of emotions apart from Aaron’s. It functioned with a baser, more primitive reaction to people, places, things, involving urges to fight, defend, attack, feed, or to simply enjoy the pleasure of moving at fantastic speeds through the night air, rejoicing in its agility and prowess.

  At times the Predator drifted a little closer to the surface of his mind, pushing its aggressive agenda over the top of Aaron’s thought processes. This was rare, but almost predictable. It was always precipitated by some situation where the Predator perceived a threat. At first Aaron didn’t even realize these baser urges of aggression were not truly his own.

  In these moments where his control over the beast slipped, it sometimes acted of its own will, enslaving Aaron’s body to its desires. In one instance, it almost killed a man. It happened while running an errand for Michelle. She sent Aaron to the corner store a couple blocks down the street. As he made his way, a bum hobbled out of the alleyway. He probably intended to ask for spare change or whatever. The Predator saw a threat. Before Aaron knew what happened, the Predator leaped forward, seizing his motor skills. He lashed out at the vagrant with a back hand, knocking the poor guy sprawling across the sidewalk.

  Aaron stood in complete shock and awe at what he’d done. The vagrant cursed and spit at him in a toothless garble, “Ga dern sumbitch. Leavemee lone! I ain’t touch you. Don’t go messin’ with me, ya crazy bastard!”

  He stood there gawking at the filthy old geezer like an idiot. The man picked himself up and limped off, cursing the whole way. Since that incident Aaron realized he’d have to maintain a vigil of his own, to keep a close eye on the Predator’s reactions and urges, keep it from bleeding over and taking control.

  The Predator knew otherwise. It knew there would always be those incidents––moments of need––when decisive, aggressive action would be necessary. Like a caged lion that knows it will escape eventually, the Predator waited patiently for Aaron to leave the door unlatched.

  * * * *

  Michelle noticed the change in Aaron immediately. He was now a man in every sense of the word. There was a rock-solid powerful presence beneath every movement and expression. His carriage, stance, demeanor, walk, everything about him spoke of power. The kind of inner strength that comes with being self-assured of the ability to manage any situation. />
  Without words to acknowledge the event, their relationship had completely morphed overnight. He became her equal. There was no more of the motherly mentorship role. Aaron’s judgment, instincts, capabilities, and maturity were unquestionable. She had nothing left to teach that he hadn’t learned that night.

  She loathed using her authority of compulsion for any reason other than a dire life-threatening emergency. It seemed an offensive act to degrade this powerful, graceful creature with compulsive commands.

  Like a person who owns a wild animal, to taunt the beast with cruel treatment is to risk loss of life and limb. She didn’t wish to arouse Aaron’s wrath with petty use of compulsion. He was a force to be reckoned with, not manipulated. To this extent, she actually feared him. Without the reassurance of his love, without his constant affection, she’d be looking over her shoulder for a stab in the back.

  She understood, probably better than Aaron, exactly how vicious and dangerous a male vampire could be. She had no desire to evoke that darkness within him. He was normally the perfect vision of comportment and civility, and she wanted to keep it that way.

  Their relationship functioned on a new paradigm of mutual love and respect. But she was no longer his master. Not if she valued her life. Her days of ordering Aaron around were finished.

  MEDICAL EXAMINER RULES N.Y.P.D. DETECTIVES DEATHS A DOUBLE HOMICIDE

  The death of fifty-two year old detective Conner Oberman with the 124th precinct N.Y.P.D., has been ruled a homicide, the medical examiner’s office said Monday. Detective Oberman was found face-down in the south side parking lot of the Ramada Inn on Lincoln Blvd. at 11:55 p.m. Friday evening by police officials responding to reports of multiple gunshots fired. Investigators determined that Oberman fell to his death from the third floor balcony of room 322.

  In a related homicide, Oberman’s partner, forty-nine year old Detective Sean Konowicz with the 124th precinct N.Y.P.D., was pronounced dead at the scene in room 322 of the same hotel. According to the news release from the medical examiner’s office Detective Konowicz’s suffered, “... massive trauma to the throat ...” with a “... significant contributing factor of external hemorrhage as the cause of death.” When asked if the detectives were on official police business at the time of the murders Police Chief Schueller declined to comment stating, “The investigation is ongoing and the N.Y.P.D. homicide detectives are following all potential leads.” There have been no suspects identified as of yet and no new developments in the investigation beyond the medical examiner’s reports.

  CHAPTER 23

  Michelle handed her cell phone off to Aaron. “Is your friend again. Please make the arrangements.” He nodded and winked at her.

  “Hey Kyle, it’s good to hear from you. What’s up?”

  “Same ole same ole. What have you been doing with yourself lately? Seems like forever since we hung out.” Kyle hadn’t spoken to him in over a week. Not since he called to warn him about the detectives.

  “I’m doing great, fantastic actually. I’ve been keeping really busy. Michelle’s got me running here, there, and everywhere.” Aaron snorted at the inside joke.

  “I’ll bet. You gotta do whatever it takes to keep a girl like Michelle happy.” Obviously Kyle was still enthralled with Michelle, but then who wasn’t? Everyone she came into contact with fell under her spell. She collected admirers like other women collect shoes.

  “You betcha. I make sure to do everything I can to keep my baby happy. You wouldn’t want to see what she’s like when she’s angry. That’s something to avoid at all costs.” Aaron paused and then redirected, “How about you? What’s new? Find a new roommate yet?”

  “No man, I guess I’m just a sentimental fool. I can’t bring myself to put anyone else in your room. It wouldn’t be the same.” Kyle spoke as though reciting a Shakespearean tragedy.

  “Stop it. You’re gonna make me cry!” Aaron mimicked Kyle’s tragic tone. He knew the truth––Kyle simply couldn’t find another chump to foot the bill for half the rent and utilities.

  “Hey, man, don’t get all weepy on me. You know I can’t handle it. Really, I called to invite you and Michelle to a little party I’m having this Friday. Since you can’t seem to find the time to come see your best friend I decided to throw a party. Seemed like a good excuse to get you to show up.”

  “Ohhh reeaaallly. And should I assume this invitation comes with the requirement that I bring a twenty-four pack?”

  Kyle snickered. “You know me far too well. It’s like you can read my mind or somethin’. Startin’ to creep me out dude!”

  “I tell you what, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll show up with a twenty-four pack and my fabulously gorgeous girlfriend, ready to party, on one condition ... You make sure Delia’s there.”

  “You got it, man. She woulda been here anyway. You know that.” Kyle paused. “I gotta say, Michelle has Delia beat hands down, all the way around. It’s like, no contest. Honestly, I don’t know why you’d be interested in Delia anymore.”

  “Definitely, Michelle is awesome, no doubt about it. But hey ... don’t say anything to Delia about this, okay? I want to surprise her. Got it?”

  “Sure, no problem, catch you Friday, around ten. You take care. Tell Michelle I said hi.” Kyle hung up.

  Aaron turned to Michelle with a wicked smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Hey, baby, we’re goin’ to a party Friday night! Delia’s gonna be there. Make sure you let her know how much we appreciate everything she’s done for us.”

  “Oui mon chér, I will make sure she knows exactly how I feel!”

  * * * *

  Talco felt like he truly had a guardian angel. Someone up above had taken pity on him. He’d been delivered from the hands of the demon who came to drag Oberman and Konowicz to Hell. Sure he had some broken ribs, and a surgery on his punctured lung, but he was alive and well, relatively speaking. Sitting in his hospital bed, he read the newspaper daily, searching for any mention of the detectives. He found the articles, which said very little, but it was enough.

  He knew the score. He knew how very close he came to sharing their fate. It was divine intervention that woke him from unconsciousness in the hotel hallway and steered him down the stairwell to life and freedom. His escape from the Ramada Inn was nothing short of a religious experience.

  The police didn’t have a clue he had been there. No witnesses survived. What could a witness testify to anyway? Would a judge and jury listen to tales of demonic entities sent to collect the damned, dragging their souls down into the abyss? There was no way to explain to the faithless what had occurred that night.

  He swore to bury the memory. None would ever hear his tale. He’d keep this event close to his chest and build upon it a foundation for a new life free of corruption. He would be a good father, a good husband, a good member of the church and community.

  His deal with the devil had been broken, his life spared. He would not waste this opportunity to remake himself in the eyes of God and all those he loved.

  * * * *

  Aaron smiled wide as Kyle opened the door to his apartment.

  “Hey Aaron, my man, my savior, what would I do without you––and your beer?” Kyle bumped knuckles with him and then took in Michelle in all her splendor. “Ah Michelle, mon amour, you’re looking lovely as ever.” Kyle made eyes at her, grabbing her hand as though he would kiss it. She swatted him away and smiled demurely, in character with her girl-next-door persona, assumed and discarded at the flick of a switch.

  Michelle did indeed look lovely in her second-skin, black jeans and skimpy, red top with lots of open back and cleavage.

  Aaron saw Delia immediately, camped on the other side of the room with Amber and gang. Delia could not stop staring at him. He acted like she didn’t exist.

  As the party raged on, he and Michelle worked the room, enjoying the carefree light-hearted atmosphere of the young, immature party goers. Delia was completely ignored, but she maintained her relentless stare at Aaron. R
eading her mind, she was consumed with jealousy, obsessed with him, desperately waiting for an opening to talk with him alone. Michelle had been right all along, the girl was a problem.

  A half hour into the party, Amber approached him. “Can I talk to you for a second?” Her eyes flitted to Michelle, who was occupied with Kyle’s flirtations.

  “I’m right here.” He smiled brightly, and she blushed.

  He read Amber’s intense attraction to him and her embarrassment at being cornered into the awkward position of acting as Delia’s ambassador. He listened patiently. “Um ... really its Delia, she wants to talk privately, in the bedroom. She really misses you. I mean it. I’ve never seen her like this. Can you just talk to her for a couple minutes?” Amber’s eyes shifted back towards Michelle, as though afraid to be caught in the middle of this little game.

  He surprised her with a wide open grin. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  Aaron flashed a winning smile in Delia’s direction. The first time he’d given her any attention all night. She blushed too. He wondered if Delia had a clue how much her best friend wanted to get in his pants. She probably wouldn’t be sending Amber to him anymore if she learned the truth.

  He drew Delia into the room, putting his arm around her in a casual embrace as he closed the door behind them. Delia’s pulse pounded and he read her intense desire-obsession, as she grew wet between the legs from his proximity. She knew something exciting was about to happen. She couldn’t understand what had come over her. Aaron had never driven her hormones crazy like this. No man had ever affected her this way.

  He pulled away from her and stepped farther into the bedroom. The separation was almost painful for Delia. She yearned to touch him, to reach her hands up under his shirt. She broke into a sweat with fantasies of all the delightfully naughty things she wanted him to do.

  He stood looking at her. Gradually his face turned to a scowl, eyes cold as ice. Delia began to fear he had discovered she called the police to report Michelle. She feared his disapproval and rejection. Her mind raced through lies, misdirection and excuses she could use to skirt the issue, preparing for a reproach.