Lilith Mercury, Werewolf Hunter Series (Boxed Set, Books 1-3)

by Tracey H. Kitts

  “I will control what I can, but some of it is just me.”

  “Then touch me,” I commanded, “and let nature worry about the rest.”

  Suddenly, we were all over each other, grasping, tearing fabric, trying to get free of our clothes. He pressed me back against the silk sheets. As I looked into his dark green eyes I realized that what I saw at the club was not a vision of what I wanted to do to him, I had seen the future. His dark hair cascaded over my eyes and I reached upward to meet his kiss. I slid the silk pajamas over his hips as I took his cock in my hand. He was hard and warm, and practically throbbing against my palm. I caressed the length of him with my fingertips and was not disappointed. I was more than ready as I guided him toward my pussy and arched my body to meet his.

  He thrust into me in one move and it took my breath. He looked at me through the dark curtain of his hair as if asking my permission to continue.

  “Don’t stop,” I panted. “Take me like you never took me in my dreams.”

  Dracula pressed me into the mattress as he ground his hips against mine, leaving me delirious with desire. With every move he touched my clit as he thrust into me deeply. The sensations flowing through my body were incredible, and yet I still didn’t come. He knew exactly what to do to take me there and he was holding back.

  From that point, I remember nothing but the feel of him, the rocking motion of his body against mine. The sound of silk sliding against silk as I rose to meet his every thrust.

  I turned my head to the side in order to breathe. His face was pressed against my cheek, fingers entwining through mine, gripping me harder, pushing me nearly through the bed. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. There was only his touch, his breath against my skin. I wanted to hear him scream. I pulled my hands away from him and ran my fingers through his hair. I got a handful of his thick hair near the nap of the neck and pulled his head back, exposing his throat.

  I traced from his collar bone to his chin with my tongue and he moaned. It was enough for me. I couldn’t hold out to hear him scream. I wrapped myself around him as wave after wave of orgasm shook my body. A warm rush flowed through me like living flame. I felt this fire pass through me and into Dracula, tearing a scream of release at long last from his lips.

  “Are you all right?” he gasped as he brushed the hair back from my face.

  I nodded, but I could not yet speak. We both collapsed against the pillows and I felt like I’d been drugged.

  “So, you are Mathias’ granddaughter,” he said.

  “You knew him too?”

  “Everyone knew him,” he replied with a satisfied smile. “I noticed the resemblance before, but now I am convinced.”

  “What made up your mind?” I asked as I tried to catch my breath.

  “Your scratches have already healed.”

  I looked down at my chest. He was right.

  “How well did you know Mathias?” I asked.

  “We were friends before my breakdown in the Middle Ages.”

  “Then he probably told you the consequences of—”

  “Someone having sex with him? Yes. I know about your ability to take on the characteristics of your lovers. I also know how you healed the scratches, so do not feel you owe me an explanation. I am a grown man; I knew what I was getting myself into when I walked in the room.”

  “Is that so?” I sat up and my eyes provoked my heart to a faster rhythm as I gazed at the perfection of his body. “The night is young,” I whispered as I rolled on top of him.

  “Sex cannot heal a broken heart, my angel,” he said softly.

  “Are you refusing me?”

  “Never,” he whispered.

  “If you get too weak, you can always go bite Luther and come back,” I teased.

  His laughter floated over my skin as I kissed the man of my dreams once again.

  “There’s something I want to know,” I mumbled against his throat.

  “What is that?”

  “In all these years, is there anything you haven’t tried in bed? Or, is there anything you haven’t done in a while that you’ve missed?”

  “I have done many things,” Dracula said as he smiled faintly, “but there is nothing more arousing than a beautiful woman who genuinely wants to be with me. It does not matter what she does, just as long as she enjoys what she is doing.”

  “If you have no objections then, there’s something I’d like to do you,” I said silkily.

  “I am yours,” he sighed.

  I reached in the dresser beside the bed and pulled out my black belt which I placed on the crimson sheets beside him while I once again straddled his waist. Bending low over his body, I kissed every ridge and curve of his flat stomach. When I reached his nipple I bit down and he screamed, but not as if he were in pain.

  “Yes,” he moaned, “bite me.”

  I bit harder, pulling the flesh between my teeth. After a few short moments of this, he was ready for me again. To my surprise, I still ached with desire. I craved his touch.

  Once again I took his cock in my hand. I positioned myself above him, using the tip of his cock to spread my pussy open and slid slowly down the length of him. I rolled my hips slowly, tentatively as I watched his face. Much to my satisfaction, his eyes rolled and his dark lashes fluttered. I contracted my muscles, squeezing him tighter inside of me and he cried out. Just as I had suspected, Dracula was a moaner. I like that. It’s always good to have feedback. I ran my hands up and down his chest as I moved slowly against him. He was so long and hard that I could not sit up completely. So, I leaned forward, placing my hands against him for leverage as I quickened my pace. He moaned again, and my mind was lost to the rhythm as I ground my hips against him. I ached for him in a way I could not describe. It was like nothing I had ever felt and no amount of effort seemed to give me the release I needed.

  I reached for the belt and in the blink of an eye it was securely buckled around his throat. To my delight, there was no fear in his eyes as I looked down at him, only trust. He was over two thousand years old, and no telling how powerful. And he gave up control. With the look in his eyes he gave himself to me and I accepted this gift.

  I wrapped the belt around my hand and pulled it tight as if I were guiding the reigns of a horse while I rode him. His back arched as he grabbed fistfuls of my scarlet sheets between his hands.

  “Yes,” he whispered, “yes.”

  I pulled the belt tighter as my pace grew more frantic.

  “Tighter,” he moaned as he threw his head back again, and I pulled the belt tighter.

  I could see the veins in his neck throbbing from the pressure.

  “Are you sure you want it this tight?” I asked.

  The way the corners of his mouth teased me with a smile was thrilling. “You cannot kill me,” he said. “And I like it rough now and then.”

  I growled in response to his words.

  “Let the beast I see in you free. Unleash it here with me.”

  I pulled the belt even tighter and Dracula gasped as his face flushed. I growled again, only this time there was nothing human about the sound. My eyes burned and I knew they had turned to amber.

  “What do you need?” I asked, my voice commanding.

  “Give me what you feel. If you are hurting, hurt me. And if you need love, all you have to do is ask.”

  His offer was tempting, but I still hesitated until he said, “Do it.”

  I gripped him tighter with my thighs and rolled to my back, putting Dracula on top of me.

  “Fuck me hard,” I told him.

  He slammed into me and I cried out as I reached to loosen the belt. I hooked two fingers between the belt and his throat as I pulled him down to me.

  “I’ve wanted you for so long,” I moaned against his lips.

  He thrust into me deep and fast and I clung to him. My hands roamed up and down his back until I could no longer resist the urge to tighten my grip.

  “Yes,” he said, some of his magic creeping into his voi
ce. “Dig into my flesh. Hurt me.”

  I felt my nails lengthening into claws, only I didn’t let them grow fully. I looked into Dracula’s emerald eyes as I pressed against his back just hard enough to prick the skin. His eyelashes fluttered as I ran my nails down his back, no doubt drawing blood.

  Tears spilled down my face as a release I didn’t think was possible flooded me. It wasn’t orgasm. It was relief from some of the pain I felt.

  “Hurt me,” he said, and as he looked down at me I saw he was crying too. “Let me take your pain.”

  “Why?” I asked, still wary of hurting him.

  “Because I can.”

  I dug my nails roughly into his back and he screamed as he thrust into me again. He pumped in and out, harder and faster. I moved my hands back to his chest and gasped when I saw they were covered with his blood.

  I used the belt for leverage as I pulled him to me and kissed him deeply once more. My tongue moved over his fangs and I felt the beginning twinges of orgasm. I gripped him once more with my thighs and flipped Dracula to his back.

  “Faster,” he gasped, and I went faster.

  I could feel the fire building within me, and I knew my release would soon come. A sensation began at the back of my spine, an agonizing tension that flowed into my hips as my muscles gripped him tighter. My back arched so suddenly I thought my spine might snap as orgasm overtook me. Once again, I felt the fire flow from my body to his, and Dracula’s cries of release soon echoed my own.

  I rested my face against his chest and unbuckled the belt. His neck was red from the pressure and he instantly gasped for air.

  “Was it good for you?” I teased.

  He laughed and I rolled beside him. His body glistened with sweat and blood. I ran one hand over his slick wet chest as I asked, “Would you like to get in the tub with me, if it’s not cold water, and I don’t invite Luther?”

  He sighed contentedly. “I would love to.”

  When I went to sit up I noticed my scars were exposed. I found it hard to believe that I had been so caught up in the moment I hadn’t given them a second thought. Looking back at Dracula in all his pale perfection, I felt awful. I moved to cover my stomach and he stopped me.

  “What are you doing?” he asked softly.

  “My scars,” I said trying to think of an explanation for my behavior. “I hadn’t meant for you to see them.”

  “Do you think I do not have scars?” As he said this, he took my hand to prevent me from covering my lower abdomen. Dracula rose to his feet in front of me and turned around.

  At first all I saw was blood. “Oh, my God. Why did you let me do this to you?”

  “Your scratches have already healed,” he said softly. “It is only blood. Look closer.”

  I ran a hand over his back, wiping away some of the blood so that I could see his skin. His back was covered in long white scars. Thin lines in crisscrossed patterns marred the perfection of his skin. From the look of it, someone had nearly whipped him to death.

  “How did this happen?” I asked.

  “Someone turned my own weapon against me,” he explained as he turned back to face me. “A cat o’nine tails with bits of sharp silver on the ends.”

  “What did you do to them?”

  “I killed them,” he answered, showing no emotion as to how he felt about his revenge.

  Dracula knelt in front of me and ran a hand over my scars. I tried to withdraw, but he would not allow it.

  “Are these from your attack?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  The scars are a remnant of my attack. There are several vicious slashes across the right side of my stomach, beginning level with my belly button, and extending to the front of my upper hip bone. Three diagonal cuts above my navel, and three cuts at an angle on the left side. I watched with mingled horror and adoration as he pressed his lovely face against the ruined skin.

  “You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he whispered. “These scars are a small thing in comparison.”

  “They ruin me,” I said.

  As much as I would have liked to remain emotionless, I felt tears sliding down my cheeks as he continued to rub his face against my skin like a cat. For lack of a better word, he was worshiping me and I was overcome.

  “No. They make you who you are,” he said, “and I would see all of you.”

  “How did I not see your scars before?” I asked, my voice still thick with emotion. “I was standing behind you when you had your shirt off.”

  “Because I did not wish to appear imperfect in the eyes of a beautiful woman.”

  “You clouded my mind?”

  “Do you prefer to see the scars?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do they add character?” he asked with a smile. That subtle curling of lips set me on fire all over again.

  “They make you who you are,” I said with a wink, feeling better about myself.

  My knees wobbled slightly as I made my way into the bathroom. I let the water run while I lit the vanilla scented candles scattered about the room. Some sat on the floor, others across the vanity, and some were placed around the edge of the tub.

  Dracula turned off the light in the bedroom. I looked up as he walked through the door and my breath caught. He was every bit the dream I had held so dear. His naked body glistened in the candlelight, and strands of dark wet hair clung to his throat. He was formed of a devastating and heartrending beauty, making him almost painful to look upon. But pain and pleasure are sometimes separated by only a thin line.

  I watched as Dracula dampened a bath cloth and wiped the blood from his chest.

  “I have no objection,” he said. “But I thought you might prefer your bathwater to be without blood.”

  I smiled as I took the cloth from him and he turned to face the mirror so I could wash his back.

  “I still can’t believe I made you bleed. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  As I spoke I looked at him in the mirror and met his gaze. “Perhaps that is part of the problem,” he said. “A woman who is half wolf, who has never become a beast in bed.”

  I ran my hands over his back. The blood was gone now, and I enjoyed the feel of his muscles and thin white scars. To have him here with me, to touch him after so many years dreaming of him, was incredible.

  “Most people don’t like to be scratched until they bleed,” I said.

  His smile was wicked. “I am definitely not most people. Tell me, how did it feel the moment you knew you had drawn blood.”

  “Like relief.”

  I wrapped my arms around him and Dracula moved slightly so that I was underneath his right arm. We both stared into the mirror.

  “I’ve always made an effort to hold back,” I admitted. “Not just from scratching anyone, but even to control my eyes. The thought of anyone being afraid of me while we were naked together is upsetting to say the least.”

  He turned to face me and the last glimpse of his reflection showed something I hadn’t expected. Tenderness and another emotion I couldn’t quite read.

  I looked up at him and when he kissed my forehead I felt like I was melting inside.

  “You should never hide who you are, especially not from someone you are intimate with.”

  His words and that soft kiss had moved me nearly to the point of tears. I could only nod in response before turning back to the tub.

  “I believe this calls for music,” he said, gesturing toward the candles.

  I told him where I kept my collection of CDs while I ran vanilla bath oil underneath the faucet. The view as he left the room was almost better than when he had just walked in. I lowered myself slowly into the water and breathed deeply of the soft fragrance. The smile was involuntary as Barry’s deep mellow voice drifted in just before Dracula walked back through the door.

  “Of all the music to choose from,” I said.

  “What? Everyone likes Barry.”

  The muscles of his upper thighs flexed as he stepped i
nto the tub and my heart gave a painful jump.

  “Did you really think you would never find me?” he asked as he slid toward me through the water.

  “I always knew deep down that I would, but part of me was afraid you were just a dream,” I admitted.

  “That is sweet for someone who is only pretending to be in love with me.”

  What could I say? In some way, I had loved the dark stranger of my dreams. But the man in front of me was definitely not a dream. He was real, and I barely knew him. It was strange to be with someone who was so new and yet so familiar. His presence was familiar to me like a favorite song, and I was at ease.

  “Let me wash your hair,” I said softly.

  He turned his back to me. I traced some of his scars with my fingertips before pressing my face against his back.

  “What happened to you?” I asked. As I said this I knew he realized I wasn’t talking about the scars.

  “I was part of the original group of Hunters,” he began. “Shortly after the first year of infection, my family was murdered. My mother, my father, and my sister. There were rumors of creating a weapon, the ultimate Hunter, some called it. But they needed a test subject. Most of them knew who my grandfather was, and they were happy to take me on when I volunteered.”

  “Who was your grandfather?” I asked.

  “I am a descendant of The Rainmaker.”

  The Rainmaker, like his name implied had power over the storm. That would certainly explain the display Dracula had put on earlier in the evening.

  “The virus had begun to spread to Earth, and they felt that sending someone here who was better equipped to deal with werewolves would prevent more Hunters from losing their lives. I was given a synthetic twenty fourth pair of chromosomes. At first things worked as they were intended. I did my job and I enjoyed it. But, with every werewolf I slaughtered, I grew hungry for more. The thirst for blood was something they gave me, and they did so without my knowledge. Originally, the bloodlust was only for lycanthropes, an extra incentive to hunt them. But pretty soon, all blood started to taste like candy. Werewolves were just a little closer to chocolate. The superior night vision I was given became the extreme photosensitivity I have today.”