Tears of Blood (The Blood Chronicles)

by Tamela Quijas

  Her body pulsating with need, Meghan’s eyes floated shut and she savored the sensation of Amado’s hand against her damp flesh. She pulled him closer, unerring unfastening the buttons of his shirt. Her trembling fingers tugged at the thinness of his tie, releasing the knot and tugging at the material. She laughed as he lifted to his elbow, yanking the fabric from his torso with one forceful jerk.

  Her yearning raged and her passion flamed, held too long in check by her warring mind. Meghan pulled at him, wordlessly telling him of a desire equal to his own. She moaned deep in her throat, pressing her lips to the cool curve of his cheek, savoring the quaking shafts of emotion that rippled over his autumn chilled flesh.

  Lovingly, his fingers trembling, he parted the silken splendor of her thighs with his knee. He leaned over her, his hands bracing his weight. His arms quivered with the effort and stared into her face, noting the flush of excitement burnishing her cheeks.

  “You’re my treasure and my love.” Amado whispered ardently. “Come sei bella, Meghan.”

  She could barely speak his name, his soft words filling her ears and seeming to glide over her shuddering flesh. Instead, she traced her fingers over his warm lips, soundlessly pleading him for more.

  “Bella Meghan, if you can only understand how I have waited an eternity for you.”

  Smiling tenderly, she ran sensitive fingertips over his face, memorizing each nuance of his features in the windows of her subconscious. Her unsteady touch lingered on his jaw and moved across deliciously smooth skin before threading through his hair. Gasping, her hips moving in unspoken need, her body aching with need, she pulled him close.

  The gradual heat of his velvety hardness pressed against the juncture of her thighs, throbbing and fiery. His lips seized hers as the insistent intrusion of his body delved into her moistness.

  Meghan returned the softness of his kiss with a soul searing eagerness, pulling at his shoulders while she arched hungrily against him. Her mouth trailed over the side of his neck, his scent filling her senses as her tongue laved his skin. She listened to his strained chuckle as she sank her teeth into the bit of flesh beneath his ear, the sound a muted breath in the vastness of the chamber.

  Clutching at his shoulders, she pulled him closer, her nails raking the taunt flesh of his back. Groaning, she wrapped the long length of her slender legs around him, drawing him more deeply inside her, savoring the feel of his turgid manhood. Gasping, her hips rose as the pulsating and insistent heat of his maleness plunge unerringly into the quivering depths of her womb.

  Meghan arched beneath him, inundated by the unrelenting pleasure that his lithe body induced, her trembling hands grasping, plucking, and pulling at his quivering body. Amado bent closer, steadying himself on a single arm as he clutched her hips to his wildly pulsating length, driving deeper and deeper into her shuddering flesh. She gasped at the erotic onslaught, murmuring his name aloud in a voice that burned with passion, as a nameless pressure continued to build.

  Intensity grew within her, the maddening thud of her erratically thumping heart roaring loudly in her ears. Urgently, Meghan gripped him, pulling him to her, her back arching as she enveloped him in her arms. With each impassioned thrust, she strained to pull him ever closer, longing for what she did not comprehend.

  A tiny cry of pleasure erupted from her as the gratifying vibrations filling her coiled upwards, and crested in an explosive wave.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sebastien shook his head peevishly, his mystifying eyes reflecting his disillusionment as he distanced himself from the crowd in the ballroom. His expression reflected bewilderment and disgust, sensations he hadn’t ever experienced toward his mortal counterparts. In fact, except for an incident in the Middle Ages, he viewed humanity as nothing more than misguided children who were self-absorbed and didn’t know better.

  His life for the last few centuries had been simple, defined by the rules dictated by the elders. The dictates were straightforward enough. Settle, merge, hunt, judge, and exterminate, if necessary. Successfully, he’d settled and blended into the quiet society of Bentham in order to accomplish his goals, but the subsequent chores were proving more difficult every day.

  Society had changed, and not for the better.

  In Sebastien’s time, the undead didn’t long for the embrace of the living. In fact, they relished taking whatever mortals had to offer, whether voluntarily or not. Presently, the events he witnessed hours earlier confused him, and he damn well couldn’t figure out what the world was coming to. Confused, he watched a vampire, one of the unholy, hold Meghan Stanley in his arms. Instead of robbing her of precious life, he’d pressed his lips gently to hers, appearing not to want anything more than her heart.

  The abomination of the damned had attentively led her from the stage. In his centuries on this earth, Sebastien hadn’t ever seen such devotion and the hunter suspected the prospect of a soul lingered beneath the vampire’s mottled stare. Redemption was evident in the fiend’s tarnished gold eyes, and he’d grant this one an opportunity to redeem himself.

  He turned away, ignoring the many hands that reached for him. The store patrons, countless of which attended, recognized him. Even on this night, where the alcohol flowed freely and inhibitions vanished on the words of a love song, he appeared a familiar and welcoming beacon.

  If they only knew…

  His skin burned and Sebastien stilled the urge to run his hands restlessly over his arms. He acknowledged, despite his efforts to soothe the fiery ache, the flesh beneath the dark fabric of his shirt flamed with a hidden fire. The discomfort was an unsavory part of his curse, and the pain would never leave him.

  Wearily, his eyes scanned the room for the bright crimson of Chesca’s curly hair. Issuing a heavy sigh of relief, he spotted her and couldn’t prevent the half-hearted smile twisting his lips.

  Trust Chesca, he thought, his smile widening into a grin. He wondered if she’d ever change her outrageous behavior, but decided against the probability. Only the gypsy waif would openly flirt with a rotund man dressed in the regal finery of a forgotten action hero, and make the human feel as if he was the king of the world.

  At least, he though bemusedly, the person portraying the superhero was not one of the undead. There weren’t many in attendance tonight, save for the one that who kissed Meghan, but suspected the night was still young.

  Briefly, he wondered about the fortuneteller’s safety.

  Sebastien didn’t have long to digest the thought as his gaze settled on a lone individual dressed in a pristine white linen suit hovering among Chesca’s ardent admirers. Belatedly, he realized he should have squelched the thought from the onset, understanding the undead haunted the festivities of the living with an eagerness knowing no bounds.

  How could they, he reasoned, avoid a virtual buffet of drunken buffoons after the revelry?

  Sebastien identified the parasite for what he was, despite his outward facade. Now, he understood the reason behind the burning sensations trailing over his flesh, the insatiable need to wreak havoc on the condemned. The very demon’s appearance triggered his need for the hunt.

  The vampire’s blond hair, a similar shade of his own, shone in the dim lights. His features were classical, nearly unearthly in the muted glow, and sharply defined by a stubborn jaw and chin. His eyes, black against his pallid skin, glowed with a craving of which Sebastien was well acquainted.

  His threatening gaze narrowed as he glared at the figure he recognized from the café near his store. The highlighted hair, the foreboding eyes, the overly smooth demeanor announced the true fiend hidden behind the suave character. He knew the voracious vampire as easily as the scars that marred his arms.

  His shoulders drawn back and his chin held high, Sebastien pushed his way through the crowd. He ignored the muttered complaints issued as people stumbled aside, focused on the vampire lingering close enough to Chesca’s table to cause damage to her precious soul. He wanted to shout, to demand the wrongdoer to vanish
to the netherworld without his aid, but couldn’t.

  There were too many witnesses, and he couldn’t afford to have his actual identity discovered.

  As if capable of sensing Sebastien, a slow and congenial grin brightened the unusual pallor of the individual. Derisively, he turned toward the towering figure, his eyes glittering with an unholy light. He didn’t show fear as Sebastien approached, despite the murderous intent in his face.

  “You’ll not have her.” The low assertion echoed with the fury raging in Sebastien’s soul.

  “Do you truly believe the rubbish you spout?” The vampire smirked, the action seeming to define only more of his glorious visage. Unhurriedly, he drew away from the crowd, backing into a towering pillar. “Do you believe you’ve the power to stop me?”

  Sebastien pulled himself upright, towering over the being, and glared down the length of his nose. “You, of all the damned, know what I’m capable of destroying you. Your destruction will be as effortless as my swatting a fly.”

  Declan smirked, his eyes glittering in the shadows.

  “Do you truly believe yourself proficient?”

  “I can do so much more than merely inflicting harm on you.” Sebastien assured heatedly. “Are you so blind you don’t know of my species?”

  “Regrettably, I’m at a loss.” The vampire mocked with pronounced sarcasm. “Why don’t you enlighten me, my child?”

  “You don’t know?” Sebastien asked with mild surprise.

  “I’ve grown weary of the stories I hear of your type and what you can do to those haunting the night.”

  “You disregard my existence as nothing but a story that taunts your species?” Sebastien murmured, his fiery eyes narrowing.

  “Just as mortals have tales of demons, vampires, and mythical creatures, legends of your sort run rampant through ours.” He responded with a halfhearted shrug.

  “You relegate me to a land of nightmares, stories meant to keep vampires on a tight leash by their makers?”

  “You’re nothing but mortal…”

  “Trust me,” Sebastien leaned in close, his hot breath bathing the vampire’s cold features. Fear didn’t glisten in his dark gaze as he spied the fangs that declared Declan’s identity, and a sinister disregard radiated from every pore of his body. “I’m not merely a tale meant for amusement among the undead. I’m the only one of a sea of the everlasting that knows of the evil lurking in your corpse.”

  Declan snorted inelegantly.

  “You’re so certain I’m evil?”

  Sebastien refused to take the bait, knowing the vampire relied on disorientating him from his mission.

  “I know of the demon inside you, the one that poisons whatever is left of your condemned soul and makes you the fiend of the night.”

  “If you’re so certain, then you know there isn’t a single soul protected from me tonight.” Declan scoffed as his arm spread wide, wordlessly encompassing every individual in attendance. “Watch these fools drink themselves into oblivion, and stagger out to our harmless streets. I’ll be waiting to welcome them, to show every fool of the darkness inside me.”

  “Tonight, they’ll drink, before safely returning to their homes.” Sebastien contradicted. “You, and others of your sort, will leave them in peace, Balthazar.”

  The vampire’s brow lifted slightly at the menacing pronunciation of his name.

  “And what mode of magic did you use to divine my name?”

  “I didn’t use any enchantment at all.” Sebastien countered innocently, a slow and lethal smile twisting his mouth. “I listen, and hear of the whispers in the streets.”

  “Then listen to this,” Declan leaned in close, the sinister coldness of his face nearly touching that of the other. “Your spells and charms won’t stop me. Mortals cannot run, nor can they hide from my hunger.”

  “I will stop you.” Deadly promised laced the declaration.

  “You can’t be everywhere, while I seek my victims.” Declan’s smiled tightly, and his eyes glittered sinisterly. “What do you intend to do? Do you plan to stand on the stage, demand the spotlight, and tell them to run? Shall you encourage them to hide from my thirst, my need to steal their blood?”

  He turned toward Sebastien, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the man’s flashing orbs.

  “If I must, I will do so.”

  “These disgusting beings,” his chin indicated the crowd of smartly dressed individuals, laughing uproariously and mingling with one another. “These people would laugh you out of the place, and openly embrace me.”

  Sebastien leaned in closer, his nose intentionally touching Declan’s cheek, his breath hot against the vampire’s cold flesh.

  “Do you know who I am?” A murderous edge filled the question, which would have caused most to seek some manner of escape. “Do you know why I’m here?”

  Declan smirked, his lips twisting ruthlessly and he moved his face away. The action removed any semblance of attractiveness from him, his visage appearing as cruel, and as distorted as the demon he was beneath the surface.

  “I have heard rumors of your class among The Sanctum.” He admitted shortly. “They warn us, in our early days, to keep away from you and your kind.”

  “Have they ever told you why?” Sebastien breathed throatily, his dark eyes glittering with an unnatural light. “Have your precious creators ever enlightened their damned brood as to why it’s best they avoid my breed?”

  Declan felt unsettled, the sensation one he’d forgotten long ago. Consciously, he smoothed his appearance, not wanting the man to know he’d struck any semblance of dread in his accursed soul.

  “I’m your curse, Declan Balthazar.” The individual expressed beneath his breath.

  “You believe you’re my curse?” The vampire laughed lightly, the sound strained. “I exist on a curse. I feed on the blood of innocents, if you were not aware of the fact. Do you believe I fear you?”

  “You should, vampire.” Sebastien stated huskily.

  “Why don’t you run?” Declan asked suspiciously. “Why don’t you fear what I am? Seriously, do you think you can fight me and win?”

  Sebastien’s grin broadened and he leaned in close. “Do you dare think I would lose?”

  “I know what you are, despite the casual enchantments you cast over those mortals around you.” Declan murmured. “I know you’ve your own demon lurking inside, and you’re as cursed as me.”

  Sebastien straightened and his sinister smile disappeared.

  “Dare me, demon? Do you dare me, before all, to rip your body limb from limb?” He growled the threat, each word precisely pronounced and volatile. “Do you dare me to absorb your corrupted essence?”

  Declan threw his head back, and an unreserved laugh escaped him.

  “You don’t have it in you to do such a thing, especially not before these disgusting bits of flesh.”

  “Provoke me as much as you wish, demon.” Sebastien stated through tightly clenched teeth. “I thrive on a dare, as those of your kind know.”

  The vampire quieted and shook his head, though it wasn’t certain whether the deed was a negative response.

  “I don’t have to dare you.” He responded confidently. “You’ve something I don’t hold dear within me.”

  Sebastien’s dark brows rose in mute inquiry.

  “You find these mortals…entertaining. You’ll do all within your power to protect them. I, on the other hand, look at them as nothing more than a new meal.”

  “A soul isn’t an item to be mocked, Balthazar.”

  There wasn’t condemnation in the announcement. Instead, there was a wealth of compassion, not lost on the vampire. The pity irked him, and he felt himself bristle with irritation.

  “Why hang onto a useless soul when one lurks in the shadows of the world of immortals?” He mocked with ironic ease. “I savor what I am. I’ve embraced my condemnation with the ease of a child. Look at all that’s been provided for me.”

  His arms spread wide, delib
erately encompassing the crowd.

  “Tonight, this gathering provides me with nothing more than a smörgåsbord of delight. I wonder….should I have Chinese, Mexican, or even sample a bit of Indian fare?”

  “You’ll not touch a single human.” Sebastien growled as he glared at the revolting creature standing before him.

  “Perhaps I will, perhaps I won’t.” Declan retorted with a raised brow. “Who knows? The night is young.”

  “I’ll find pleasure in destroying you, Balthazar!”

  Declan snorted inelegantly.

  “Your variety has had plenty of time to hunt me, to end my blood spree. You’re the first I have ever encountered.”

  “Our meeting was merely a matter of time.” Sebastien retorted firmly. “You realized one of my brethren would seek you, eventually.”

  “I’ve always known your breed would come, in search of my tortured soul somewhere in the night.” Declan shrugged indifferently. “Then again, tell me, is capturing my evil something you truly wish to do?”

  “I’ve walked in the darkness of the nights for countless seasons, vampire.” Sebastien responded in an ominous tone. “I’ve eliminated your kind before they can do much more damage than they have already done to the innocent.”

  Declan squinted up at the man, wordlessly despising the few inches the other held over him.

  “Do you believe I’ll sit complacently back while you send me into a fiery world?”

  “It’s not in you to sit aside, is it, Balthazar?”

  “No.” He sneered. “I’ll torment you as you torment me. We both walk a forbidden road, my powerful mage, but it's not a route I intend to share. Just as the darkness overtakes me, just as the hunger gnaws at my gut, I’ll taunt you as easily.”

  “Granted, you may give it your best try.” Carelessly, Sebastien flipped his hair over his shoulder.