Heartless (Crossbreed Series Book 9)

by Dannika Dark

  Christian’s fangs punched out. “You first, you insipid shitebag.” His black eyes were wrought with fury and violence.

  A cold chill ran down my spine.

  Instead of biting him, Christian slammed him against the wall. The man bellowed in pain when a bone snapped. Christian stalked toward him, lifted him by the throat, and flung him across the room. The man crashed into the Saint Andrew’s cross, breaking it to pieces. While I’d been in a stupor for almost an hour, seeing Christian jogged my memory.

  Only the sex bits. I remembered how good his hands felt against my skin and his tongue in my mouth. The taste of his blood and the way he knew my body like no one else. When I looked at him, the only word that filled my mind was yes. I gripped the chain above me and watched with delight as he beat the stranger senseless. Blood spattered the walls but barely showed up against the red lighting.

  After wiping his bloody knuckles on the man’s jeans, Christian finally rose to his feet and approached me with a menacing stride. He reached above my head and broke the chain in two. My muscles ached as I lowered them. Christian snapped off the shackles as if he were breaking open fortune cookies.

  When I thought he might barrage me with questions, he took me into his arms and carried me out. He moved down the dark hall with his head down. The back door opened, and I took a breath of fresh air.

  Christian set my feet on the ground and adjusted my bra so that it covered my nipples. Then he wrapped his trench coat around me and forced me into the back seat of a car. The door shut, he tapped on the hood, and off I went.

  Alone.

  With my arms free, I could finally touch myself. And I did. My hands dove between my legs to ease a suffering so destructive that I felt myself coming unhinged. The driver didn’t look back at me. Not once. His eyes never watched me in the rearview mirror, and he didn’t ask me where I wanted to go. City lights blurred outside the fogged-up windows, and the sound of a loud motorcycle roared past us.

  The car eventually came to a stop, and the driver got out. When my door opened, I almost fell into the gutter. The driver caught me and helped me inside the hotel. The next thing I knew, I was in the elevator. He punched a button and turned away while I slumped down to the floor, Christian’s coat still wrapped around my shoulders. It was a struggle to keep my eyes open. Closing them intensified the sensory experience, but I was so exhausted. I just wanted it all to end.

  When the doors opened, Christian was there. He scooped me into his arms and carried me down the hall.

  “I’ve got you, Precious,” he muttered against my hair.

  I looked up and wrapped my arms around his neck. When I pulled myself closer so that I could taste his skin, he leaned away. The beep of the card key sounded, and he set me down inside the hotel room.

  “Stay here.” Christian locked the door and roamed through the dark room toward the windows. After closing the heavy drapes, he switched on the lamp to a low setting. Then he came back and flung my trench coat across the room into the corner chair. Once my boots were off, he led me into the bathroom and stripped off my shorts and panties.

  “Finally,” I whispered, clutching his shirt.

  He took off my leather bra. “There’ll be none of that.”

  Naked and ready, I forced myself against him. Christian gripped my arm and removed the thin towel bandaging my cut. After giving my forearm a thorough inspection, he removed the cloth mask around my eyes and turned my head to examine my bruised face.

  “You lost your contact,” he said absently. “But there’s no damage to your cornea.”

  I grabbed the back of his neck and tried to pull him to kiss me, but Christian had the will of an oak tree and stood firm.

  He stared at my stab wound. “I can’t give you my blood when you’re like this. You’ll have to heal in the morning.”

  “Blood,” I whispered, reaching for his neck again. Memories of his sinful blood filled my mind—that erotic taste to which nothing compared.

  Christian led me into the standing shower and turned on the water. I grimaced when the water chilled my skin like ice pellets. Within moments, it went from ice to fire, and steam fogged up the shower door. Christian stepped inside, fully dressed, and washed my bloody arm. Unable to stand another second, I backed up and sat down in the corner seat, my legs spread wide.

  He knelt in front of me, the water beating against his back, and lathered soap in his hands. He worked that soap up my calves, behind my knees, across my thighs, and over my hips. The suds turned pink as they washed away the dried blood that painted my body. When his fingers grazed between my legs, I shivered and reached for him.

  “Why can’t I tempt you?”

  He rapidly moved his hands upward and washed every inch of my body. “You smell like the floor of a pub.”

  Droplets of water clung to his face and beard. I couldn’t take my eyes off his wet lips. Christian had such a soft and demanding kiss—a kiss that could make a woman forget all others before him.

  I ran my fingers through his wet hair. “Kiss me.”

  His eyes fell to my breasts. “Jaysus wept. You’ll be the ruin of me.” Christian leaned in and gazed deep into my eyes. It made my heart flutter. After pouring shampoo in his hands, he lathered my hair, starting from the nape. “Raven?”

  “Yes?” I hissed.

  He blinked and shot to his feet. “Never mind. Stand up.”

  I did as he commanded. It felt as if we were dancing as he turned us until the water struck my back. I reclined my head while he rinsed the shampoo out, but my hands fastidiously worked to unlatch his belt.

  It became a race as to who would finish their task first. Christian poured too much conditioner in his hands and quickly ran it through my hair. When I’d gotten the belt free, I shoved my hands inside his pants and felt the blunt head of his hard cock.

  A low rumble settled in his chest as he rinsed my hair. He wanted this just as much as I did. When I popped the button open on his trousers, he lifted me up and stepped out of the shower.

  Christian toweled me, and I suddenly felt like a car going through a car wash. I was his puppet as he put my arms through the robe sleeves, tied the belt, and dried my hair. When my forearm started bleeding again, he took off his shirt and ripped it into long strips. I should have felt the pain when he wrapped it around my arm and made a knot, but I didn’t. Why was he stalling? Didn’t he realize how much I craved him?

  Then he lifted me straight up as if I weighed nothing and entered the bedroom. When we reached the bed by the windows, he set me down on the comforter.

  I locked my fingers behind his neck and pulled him toward me. “I need you.”

  “What you need is sleep.”

  “Please fuck me, Christian.”

  His eyes fluttered, and he sat down. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  I loosened the belt on my robe and exposed myself to show him how serious I was. “Please.”

  “I’ll not do it.”

  When I saw he was serious, I beat my fists against his chest. “You fanghole! You don’t love me—you only love yourself. Why did you even come for me? Why didn’t you just leave me there? This is torture. Is that what gets you off? Watching me suffer?”

  He tenderly tucked a swath of hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry you’re vexed, but I’ll not take you in this condition. You’re not yourself.”

  “Get out.”

  “I’m not leaving you here alone. Of that you can be sure.”

  Incensed, I shut my eyes. Sexual images flooded my mind, and all my anger floated away in a bubble. I forgot Christian. I forgot the hotel. I forgot everything. All I wanted was to release all this desire. My fingers slid between my legs, between and inside the wet folds. With my eyes closed, sexual images and sensations consumed me, and I experienced each encounter as if it were actually happening to me. I felt the warmth and tingling of a mouth sucking my nipple, and it was so real. In one scene, I was on all fours while a man pounded me from behind. His
hands were on my hips, controlling the rhythm. Suddenly I was in another scene where I was a man lying on my back while a woman sucked on the head of my cock. I could have never imagined what that felt like, but now I knew. The throbbing ache, the sensitive nerves, the wet warmth all around. Then I was riding on top of a man made of muscles and chest hair. I could smell his sweat and feel the coarse hair between my fingertips.

  As I chased my orgasm, I realized I was never going to get there. No one climaxed in the fantasies; it just kept shuffling from one sex act to the next. Frustrated, I opened my eyes to Christian in the corner chair, watching me. He gripped the armrests, his fangs fully extended and his eyes hooded.

  I whimpered. This pain was never going to go away.

  “Open your legs,” he growled. “Wider.”

  His textured words moved across my sensitive skin like the tassels of a whip. I bent my knees.

  “Pinch your nipples,” he said next.

  A pulse of desire shot through me like white lightning when I did as he commanded, and I realized it was his voice I needed to hear. It was his face I needed to see. His smoldering eyes, his sharp cheekbones, and the raven tattoo that spread across his arm and chest like a cloak. My belly dipped at the sight of water glistening on his chest.

  “I want my tongue… right there,” he growled. “Remember what it feels like, Raven? My tongue inside you, and then the secret bite that makes you scream.”

  My breath hitched at the memory. The chair creaked beneath his grip as he steadily watched me. Tiny bursts of light shimmered around me, and I surrendered to them as my whole body tensed.

  “Don’t stop what you’re doing,” he said, his voice rough and sexy. “Stroke it for me. That’s the way. Keep coming, Precious. The things I’ll do to you later you can’t imagine.”

  I rode out my orgasm for as long as I could until all the energy melted away to nothing.

  And that was only round one.

  For the next two hours, Christian sat in the chair, coaching me through dirty talk, one orgasm after another.

  Christian sat on the edge of the bed and melted me with his warm eyes. “Do you feel up for coffee?”

  I squinted at the light invading through the top of the heavy drapes. “What time is it?”

  He crossed the room to the counter and fetched me a cup of coffee. “What happened to your Mage clock?”

  “I think it’s fried after last night.” I propped pillows behind me and sat up. My robe was wide open, so I closed it and tried to comb my hair with my fingers. “How did you know I was awake?”

  “I know the sounds your body makes when you sleep.” He approached the bed and sat to my left, the coffee cup in his hands. The way he was holding it would have burned anyone else’s palms.

  I gripped the handle. “Hello, darling.”

  “I know you like it black.”

  I breathed in the delicious aroma before slurping it. Not exactly gourmet, but it was exactly what I needed.

  “I never really understood the term blue balls until now,” he said matter-of-factly.

  When I remembered every sordid detail, a blush heated my cheeks. “Why didn’t you take care of yourself?”

  He shook his head. “Wouldn’t have been right.”

  I set the cup down on the nightstand. “I’m sorry.”

  He jerked his neck back. “For what?”

  “All that ugly stuff I said to you. Hitting you. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Cast your fears aside. I know that wasn’t you talking.”

  “Can you open the drapes? Not all the way—my eyes are sensitive.”

  Christian stood up and squinted when he pulled back the drapes. A stream of light spilled across the bed, and I reached out to draw healing light through my fingertips.

  When the wound on my arm sealed, I touched my eye to make sure the swelling was gone. “Why didn’t you give me your blood last night?”

  He closed the drapes and returned to the bed. “Had I done that, I wouldn’t have been able to control you. Not in that condition. You would have forced yourself on me.”

  “Would that have been so bad?”

  He gave my hand a light squeeze.

  I thought back to being chained up in that room. My God, I’d come so close to cheating on Christian. How could he ever trust me again? I covered my face with my hands. “How did you know to come get me?”

  “Claude. I tried to get there as fast as I could. He wedged something in the back door so I could get in.”

  I lowered my arms. “You shouldn’t have come for me. It was risky.”

  “Are you out of your fecking mind? Do you really think that flimsy note on the door would have kept anyone out of that room? I’m sure Chitahs two blocks away could scent your arousal, and a Sensor could easily touch the door and feel your emotions from the other side. I came for you so you wouldn’t have to suffer the guilt of taking another.”

  I averted my gaze. “I almost did.”

  “Not by choice.”

  I glared at him. “I wanted him to do things to me. I don’t think I would have stopped him.”

  Christian scratched his cheek and then stroked his chin. “Sensory magic isn’t just a novelty. Maybe that’s all you’ve seen, but it can be weaponized and completely inhibit your ability to make rational decisions. When it’s powerful enough, you can’t fight it. How did it happen?”

  I reached for my coffee. “Someone spiked my drink.”

  “Are you daft? That wasn’t a spike. Those wear off in a couple of hours. Yours raged on through the night. Whatever you drank was in its purest form, and not many Sensors are powerful enough to do it. Someone infused a shite-ton of magic into your drink. That takes either skill or money.”

  “Money?”

  “Aye. People buy bottles of it on the black market. Whoever did that to you is on my hit list for life.”

  I sipped my coffee. “So you’re not mad? Don’t lie to me now and tell me it’s nothing if you’re going to hold it against me in the future.”

  He took the cup away and leaned over me to set it on the nightstand. Instead of sitting up, he rested on top of me, his face an inch away from mine. “You’re not to blame. Do you understand me? I’ll not have you doubting me on this one. That’s why I didn’t touch you last night. It wouldn’t have been right. No matter how I feel about you, Raven, I’ll never take advantage when you’re under the influence of magic.” His voice softened. “That’s not to say you didn’t drive me mad with desire. How’s your fanny this morning?”

  “Traumatized.”

  He kissed me softly on the mouth. “Another time.”

  “What were you going to say to me last night in the shower?”

  His gaze lowered as he searched his memory. “I thought about charming you into submissive behavior. Then you’d be easier to control. But I vowed to never use my powers on you.”

  My head thumped against the wall. “I’m mortified everyone saw me like that. I was licking people’s ankles and dry humping them—people I work with. And the cab driver! I’ll never be able to look at the hotel desk clerk after this.”

  Christian chuckled darkly. “I charmed the cab driver to ignore your condition. And if it gives you peace of mind, I’ll do a memory wipe on the staff downstairs.”

  I rolled away from him and got up. After dressing in sweatpants and a T-shirt, I sat at the foot of the other bed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  I stared at his reflection in the television. Christian looked like a shirtless model lying diagonal on the bed, his head propped in his hand. How could I express the immense guilt I felt? “I almost betrayed you. I don’t think you should brush it off. We need to talk about it.”

  “Put it out of your mind.”

  “I can’t.”

  He got up and stood before me. “You will.”

  My lip quivered. I rested my elbows on my knees and lowered my head so he couldn’t see. It suddenly dawned on me what had felt so insidious about l
ast night—my shackled wrists, the vulnerability, and a man abusing his dominance. It was everything I’d tried to forget about Fletcher Black, my Creator. Those months I’d spent in captivity, when he tried to break me, had never left my mind. Nausea slithered in my belly like a snake when I remembered last night. That stranger had struck me while I hung helpless in chains, and I liked it.

  I bolted from the bed and into the bathroom. As I vomited the coffee that Christian had generously made for me, he pulled my hair away from my face and stroked my back as I silently wept into the bowl. I had a brief out-of-body experience where I saw myself in a pathetic heap, and anger flooded my veins. I heard my father’s voice saying, “Get your ass off the floor. You’re not a mop.”

  Eager to put this behind me, I shot to my feet and rinsed out my mouth. When I looked up at my reflection, I smashed the bottle of soap against the mirror. Then I threw everything within reach until little bottles and towels littered the floor.

  Christian remained by the door, his hands clasped behind him.

  “I hate him,” I growled through clenched teeth. “He ruined my fucking life. I can’t get him out of my head. No matter how much I try, there he is, staring at me with those demonic blue eyes. Whenever I see a man with a shaved head and a beard, I look twice. He’s out there somewhere. Sometimes I wish he’d walk right up to me so I could put a dagger in his eye, and other times I never want to see his face again. He should suffer like I’ve suffered.”

  Christian’s silence was deafening.

  I rested my hands on the sink and sighed. “I thought it would be easy to find out who’s running the cage fights, but I don’t know if I can keep doing this for the next few weeks, let alone months. And before you say anything, I know how you hate someone dumping their feelings all over your lap, but I don’t have anyone to talk to.” I reached beneath the sink and set a bottle of tequila on the counter. “Bet you didn’t know I had this in here, did you? I’m stuck in this hotel room, dealing with all the bullshit I see at the club. It’s not the fighting; it’s everything. Worst of all, I can’t walk away. Viktor’s counting on me, and all I want to do is drink myself into a coma.”