Bishop (New Vampire Disorder Book 3)

by Marie Johnston

  She snuffed the warm glow that had begun at his admission. Keep her around. “While you may feel a higher calling to duty, I have a bad history with getting used. You saw what Rancor wanted. Use your imagination to fill in the rest and add a lot of blood and screaming. As for males who’d use me for information—no more. Absolutely no more.”

  “The male on your cave wall? Trance?”

  Another serving of humiliation. “That’s life down here. Homey, isn’t it?”

  “If you like dust and rock and an atrocious smell that burns your nostrils.”

  “Mmm, we have a serious gas problem in the caves. From the creatures, not the earth. Blankets don’t last long; fabric is a fail altogether.” She inspected her nails. Better than mooning at the male crouched less than a foot from her. “But it’s my home.”

  “Did he kill your mother because you let something slip?”

  Her vision got blurry. Tears boiled over but steamed away as tiny snowflakes.

  Bishop caressed her tears off her cheeks. They should’ve scalded him, but he was as cold as the cave. Like his ancestors used to be.

  He stretched out next to her and pulled her onto his lap.

  Resistance would’ve been smart but she could use the comfort and he was the only one in her life who would give it to her.

  Unfortunately.

  Made it hard for a girl to be strong.

  “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. Just…let me hold you.”

  She buried her head against his chest. “I wasn’t protesting.”

  His chuckle reverberated into her.

  They cuddled, neither of them saying a word.

  Finally, he spoke. “What’s this thing between us?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t seem to get enough of you.”

  “Do, uh, do demons bond with each other…because they want to?”

  She reeled back. No disgust laced his expression, but no hopefulness, either. Caution.

  “It’d be pointless. If we treasured something, the rest of the underworld would set about destroying it.” She straddled his lap and pressed in close to his ear. The huge rod straining behind his pants pulsed with her proximity. “Why? Do you think the only reason we could have a connection is because I forced a bond on you? The only way you’d be obsessed with something like me?”

  She flattened her hands on him and went to push off, but he grasped her wrists and held her on his lap.

  “What’s with you?” He tightened his grip, and while she could fight dirty, she chose to sit still.

  Wrestling with the big guy would only turn her on.

  “Let me go, I’m getting cold.” She stuck her lip out in a pout but sucked it back in when he rolled his eyes.

  “Fyra, cut the shit and talk to me like a sensible being. Higher thinking, remember?”

  Her glare could’ve cut glass. Literally. But it turned to a puff of smoke before it reached his frigid self. How dare he use her mother’s advice against her.

  Why was she so irritated with herself for getting to a point where he had to remind her?

  “Fine. You want to hear how I see it? Here it goes.” She settled into a more comfortable position and crossed her arms because despite his obvious efforts, his eyes kept dropping to her breasts. And she liked it. “You want me. You don’t want to want me. I don’t want a guy, mate or no, who feels that way. On top of that, you’re willing to use me to suit your purposes. I’ve had a little too much of that in my life. Even underworld beings get tired of pain and betrayal.”

  He opened his mouth, but she continued. “Say we get past all that. You wanna give this heavy chemistry between us a go and I’m willing to overlook what a douche you acted like. Then what? I live with you, expose your loved ones to Rancor and anyone else he can send, probably burn the place down. You move in down here, where Rancor has an even better chance and you’ll have a target painted on your balls. Not to mention I’m fire and you’re ice and…” Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. “Bollocks.”

  “And?” His expression said no big.

  She met his gaze, knowing alarm was revealed clearly in hers. “You’re an ice demon and they’re in short supply around here. One, they’re going to want to interrogate you, hunt up any family you have left living, and find out what happened to most of the species. Then, well, they’re in short supply…”

  He filled in. “They’ll want to breed me. I think it was a grandparent who was an ice demon. My mom acted like a vampire as far as I knew, and I’m even more vampire than she was.”

  She made a show of checking out his ice-hard chest, his skin that could induce frostbite with a touch, and the fuzzy crystals spreading along the floor from where he was sitting.

  “I don’t remember when the ice caves were as robust as this, but my mother told me about it. They were always covered in fluffy frost from your kind. So cold that even my kind could hardly stand to be in them, but it was worth the extra layer of safety. Most beings wouldn’t tolerate the caves. And many demons won’t chance getting suckered by the frost berry bushes.”

  “No one’s breeding me.” Bishop’s jaw was tight. He disliked the idea as much as she did. “I’m obsessed with you, yes, and you did bond me without my permission, so if you want to talk about who’s using who…”

  “Well, that was different.”

  His droll look was absolutely charming. “No. I stood up for you to Demetrius as well as agreeing to get anything I could from you. Did you hear that?”

  Her turn to be droll.

  “I’m serious,” he continued. “You’re a hundred kinds of aggravating and have put me through all sorts of unwanted excitement, but I’ve learned a lot. About me, my family, and you. You’re not evil and you’re in trouble and I want to help you. But if you won’t let me help you or let my friends get to know you like I do, then trying to save you could get me, them, and you killed.”

  She stayed quiet until she figured out how to explain herself to him. “You’re asking me to commit. Not in a male/female way. But in a I’m-giving-up-everything-and-can’t-come-back-home way. The thing is, if Rancor catches me, it’ll be hell. And I’ll get over it and move on with my life and return to my station of minion.” Most likely. Maybe. Probably not. “That’s what we do.”

  He tensed and straightened. “It’s happened to you before.”

  Frost exploded over every surface of the cavern and she had to pump up her own heat from the drop in temperature. “No, but it’s only a matter of time. Even Rancor’s been someone’s bitch before. None of us are immune, we just get good at playing the evasion game. But even that has its drawbacks.”

  “How close were you to Trance?”

  “He’s like my ex.”

  Several more stalactites sprouted from the ceiling. So this was what her mother had been talking about when she’d told Fyra what the caves used to look like. With Bishop, they were just…icier.

  “I was genuinely fond of him, I won’t lie,” she admitted.

  The stalactites sharpened.

  “Calm down before you impale me. Think warm thoughts.” Funny, she’d heard similar advice, like it should be so easy to do.

  His gaze pierced her with intensity and her body responded.

  “Not those thoughts. Okay, let’s talk about Trance. He was one of the Circle, he took an interest in me, and I fell for it. What he was really after was my mom’s motivations.” She slumped back on his thighs, totally not caring how it magnified the rolls in her belly. Because she liked them and from Bishop’s face, he did, too. “She was smart and could see the projections of the Circle’s aspirations. They want to conquer your realm. In reality, like what we’ve seen, it’s brought attention to us. Made the vampires counteract us. Soon you’ll be proactive, maybe even figure out a way to cross through realms like we do, and war will break out. Not a good future for any of the species. It’s not like shifters will take our side, and talk about a worthy ally. Humans make up in quantity what they lack in p
ower. If the Circle keeps on this path, for demons, the odds of being screwed are much greater than success.”

  “What could your mom do about it?”

  “Use her intellect and cunning to gain a Circle position—first second-tier ever—then orchestrate the filling of enough positions to keep the ones like Rancor in line.”

  “And Trance discovered her plan and killed her?”

  Too bad emotions couldn’t burn away. “I don’t even know the offhand remark I made. Probably something as simple as being confident she’d rise to power.”

  A crease furrowed his brow. “Just the thought of rising to the Circle was enough to get her killed?”

  “Demons are very territorial. And, well, one has to die before another can ascend. Makes them paranoid.”

  “I’m sorry, Fyra.” His words were full of genuine sympathy.

  “Not as sorry as I am.”

  He cradled her into his solid chest. His cold muted the emotions that swelled and threatened to blow the cave to rubble.

  “Our first priority is to kill Rancor.” He squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll worry about the rest later.”

  “If only I could go napalm again, he’d be done in seconds.” So would everyone in the vicinity. Better she didn’t become the blinding, white light of destruction.

  “We’ll figure it out. To do that, we should get back to Earth. He has the upper hand down here.”

  “Lemme try.” She fisted her hands into his shirt. The frozen material cracked under her fingers.

  She closed her eyes and imagined herself in his apartment. Her being grew incorporeal, but Bishop’s voice broke in.

  “What’s going on?”

  Her eyes snapped open. “Uh, I’m going back to your place.” But he hadn’t been going with her. Bollocks.

  “How do I do that?”

  Good question. “You’ve gotta be able to cross realms on your own, too.”

  “Well, you say you have vampire blood running through you, but you can’t flash.” He frowned, almost appeared alarmed. “Can you?”

  “I haven’t tried, like, flashing but I’ve gone between the realms. If I have vampire genes, they’re pretty diluted.” She clasped his hands. “Picture your bedroom”—why didn’t she choose a different room?—“and just think about being there.”

  “That’s exactly how we flash,” he rumbled as his eyes drifted shut.

  Probably not a coincidence the two forms of transportation were so similar. She waited to see if he went first.

  He remained as deliciously rock solid as always.

  His lids opened. “Still here.”

  She pursed her mouth. A sinister tingle ran down her spine. Twisting around would be for no good reason. No one would be there, but she felt his presence.

  “Rancor’s returned.” She rose, the sweep of Bishop’s perusal leaving heated invisible prints all over her body. Mostly her sex. Really, just her sex.

  She padded to the entrance but didn’t touch the frost berry bush. When Circle members popped back into the realm, they usually landed in their own massive chambers. Soon after Rancor rose to power, her mother had moved them to the opposite end of the mass of tunnels. To no avail. Rancor had claimed her as his servant as soon as Trance had been obliterated—and her mother had been dead.

  Frost climbed up the walls next to her. Bishop was right behind her.

  “Now what?” he whispered.

  “I doubt he’ll confess to the other twelve that I got away from him twice. But he’ll set the rest of the second-tiers assigned to him to find me.”

  “How do they do that? They located you in Chicago, they found you as soon as you left the compound.”

  She shrugged. “We’re all connected. Not, like, related. It’s an underworld thing.” She peered over her shoulder at him. “Rumor has it ice demons are hard to track. The cold of your blood mutes the signal.”

  “Explains how my demon relatives stayed away. Add in a vampire bond and…” Bishop shook his head. It sounded so simple. Why couldn’t it work that way for his fire demon? “You have no choice who you get assigned to?”

  “Little. Some play dibsies. Pick-your-poison kinda thing. I’d pick cyanide, by the way. They say you smell like almonds after you die. I’ve been dying to try it on someone.”

  Bishop shot her a bemused look. She’d expected a censorious one. Huh.

  “Will he find us here?”

  “Most likely. He’ll try everything else before he chances the cold and the berry bushes. I can’t believe the thorns can penetrate a rotten, leathery hide like his, but when you’re hungry, you’re hungry.”

  He started going through his weapons. “I stay and fight, then.”

  She rested her hands on her hips. “I?”

  “You go to my place.”

  She blinked. Blinked again. Shifted her weight to the other leg. He wanted her to leave rather than stay and face Rancor. She wasn’t sure if she should be incredibly offended or go all soft and gushy.

  “I want you safe.” Bishop said it like he needed to clarify. He couldn’t tell if she was insulted or complimented.

  “I could leave now.”

  He inventoried his weapons. Three guns. One with no ammo, one with a partially full clip, and a third was full. “You should. This is unfamiliar terrain to battle in, but I’ll deal if I’m not distracted about your safety.” His brows drew down. “Although I worry about my place. Maybe I should give you a safeword for Demetrius, or whoever discovers you.”

  He was mentally running through a few like Tell them Teddy Bear sent you when Fyra crushed herself against him and cupped his face in her hands. Her lips smashed into his and that was it for secret passwords.

  As he backed her into a wall, he lifted her legs around him. His perma-erection ground into her center. Her fiery desire surrounded him, keeping her warm and keeping him from freezing into an ice sculpture of a turned-on male vampire.

  When her arms snaked around his neck, he reached between them to loosen his pants and free himself. With a little adjustment, he slid into her.

  Urgency reigned supreme. He pumped into her; her sex gripped him and convulsed almost immediately. He was that ready to go, too.

  They were pressed too tightly together, she couldn’t throw her head back and cry out her climax. He swallowed the sound and crested his peak right after her, growling deep in his chest.

  He could go again. And likely again. Hell, he could spend days in this cave fucking his demon.

  With a shaky breath he pulled back. “I don’t want this to end.”

  His words resonated with deeper meaning. No, he didn’t want this round of sex to end. But…he didn’t want this thing with her to end.

  How could they move forward? Sure, they canceled themselves out when they were intimate. But the underworld sought their enslavement. His world couldn’t handle her, would literally burn up.

  That drawing. She’d annihilated Trance. Randomly starting fires was one thing. Destroying living beings in a blink, with no clue how, was another.

  His work was in protection. And he’d have to protect others from her. “You need to go.”

  “Not so fast, big guy.” She climbed off him because he hadn’t put forth the effort to remove her from his ever-hard cock. “I’m not running and leaving you to deal with Rancor’s hey-how-are-ya. My curiosity would never forgive me.”

  The sound of crunching ice echoed in the outer passageway. Bishop instinctively shoved Fyra behind him. He buckled his pants and drew a gun.

  The frost berry bushes rustled and a male cursed.

  Fyra snorted. “Serves you right, ass-hat.”

  A tall male strode in, shaking the hand bitten by the vines. His eyes were nearly all black, but not possessed black. The whites were visible. His swarthy good looks kept Bishop in front of his naked demon. The male, obviously a second-tier from his appearance, wore a look of irritation—and that was all.

  The underworld was a nudist colony.

  “St
ryke, I’m totally going to get you back for that bracelet.”

  Where Bishop expected defensiveness or a sneer, the male smirked. “Call us even.”

  Fyra shrugged, like no big that he’d locked her up to be a drone.

  Bishop surged forward and pinned him by the throat against the cave wall. The demon hissed as the bitterly cold stone burned his skin. Instant frostbite.

  “You put that thing on her?” He barely contained a roar.

  “You’re so dead,” Fyra snickered at Stryke.

  Again, Stryke appeared more inconvenienced than vengeful. He tried to speak, but only his lips moved and he was turning a nice shade of purple.

  Bishop kept his hold in place. Two horns sprouted behind Stryke’s hairline, concealed by his wavy, brown hair.

  Stryke didn’t struggle but tapped Bishop on the forearm and pointed at his mouth.

  Bishop eased up only enough for the man’s color to return and his teeth to chatter.

  “I-I c-c-can get you out of here.”

  It could be a trick.

  Bishop dropped him. His only other option was to face one of the thirteen with cold abilities he didn’t know how to use and guns that might be so cold they jammed on him. He was big and strong, but that wasn’t a rarity down here.

  He loomed over Stryke, who sagged to catch his breath but was careful to keep his skin off him. “Were you the one that sent the text?”

  Fyra peeked around his back, but he edged over to keep her nudity covered.

  Stryke nodded. “I figured if anyone could get her out of that mess, it’d be you. Just didn’t know if you’d get to her in time.”

  “Awww, that was really sweet.” Fyra didn’t sound sarcastic, but Bishop wasn’t as impressed as she was.

  “Because you weren’t going to do a damn thing to help. And you were the reason she was in trouble in the first place.”

  The male straightened. “No, you’re the reason she was there in the first place—she’s the reason she was there in the first place.”

  Bishop squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. A stalactite crept down from the ceiling right over Stryke’s head.