Last Vamp Standing

by Kristin Miller

  The pressure on either side of him lifted as she sat back and continued to rouse the nerves over his stomach. Her fingertips rode the ridges of his abs and stroked the bulging muscles of his sides. She was careful not to touch him where he was sore and instead skimmed around the area, probing deep into knots of tissue. Did he have a bruise where Pike’s dagger had bit into him? Stained blood?

  It was then Dante realized something had changed. Ariana’s fingers circled his skin just as hard as they had before. Her hands pressed against him with the exact same motions. But her humming had stopped.

  She was listening . . .

  After she’d covered every inch of his chest, arms, and stomach and it was high time to move on to his legs, Ariana paused and removed her hands from his body. Dante waited for her touch, for the spark that’d set his skin aflame.

  Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes.

  The sheet covering Dante’s lap moved.

  Dante opened his eyes, only a sliver, and caught Ariana staring wide-eyed at the massive erection lying against his stomach.

  “Good Lord,” she whispered, cupping her hand to her mouth.

  Her gaze shot to his. She gasped, letting the sheet drop against him.

  “Oh, you’re, ah, you’re awake,” Ariana stumbled. “I didn’t think—”

  She tried to dart off the bed, but thanks to the magic behind her touch, the strength in Dante’s upper body had returned. In a surge of speed, Dante swung Ariana over the top of him. Her body was warm—just as warm as he’d imagined it to be—her breath coating his face in a rich wave of sugary sweetness.

  “Let me go,” she said, but her words lacked conviction. And she didn’t move a muscle.

  “Not yet.” He maneuvered her legs so she was lying over him hip to hip, chest to chest. The pressure of her body felt oddly comforting. Like he’d fly off the mattress without her to ground him there. The fact that only a sheet separated their bodies added gasoline to his smoldering fire.

  Ariana propped herself on her hands. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Not long. Just enough to catch a glimpse of your voyeurish ways.” He laughed as she smacked him in the chest. “There are places you can go to get help with that, you know.”

  She tsk’d in disgust and pushed against the arms he’d wrapped behind her back. If she wanted off the bed, he’d release her no problem. But there was not a hint of fight in her eyes, and a blush had crept to her cheeks.

  “I was only checking to see if you were healing properly.” She cleared her throat awkwardly—the mark of a truly horrible liar. “To see if you had movement in your legs.”

  “You definitely got something moving, but it’s not my legs.”

  Ariana’s jaw dropped at his bluntness, and for a second Dante thought she might’ve smacked him again; the reaction seemed to come so easy to her. Instead, her heart-shaped lips quirked into a smile. “You lost a lot of blood when Pike stabbed you. You were nearly dead by the time I got you to Black Moon. I’m reviving your muscles and had to see if your legs needed as much work as your torso.”

  “I see that.” He’d been right; she was healing him. That explained how her touch seemed to awaken something inside him. But it didn’t explain her ability. Especially since she made it clear as crystal that her maware was astral-projecting. Elders didn’t have multiple mawares. “How are you able to do it?”

  “I’m a healer,” she said simply. “I can pull from Black Moon’s energy to heal the physical wounds of others. Look.” She lifted to sitting and straddled his lap.

  Dante suppressed moving his hips beneath her—barely—but couldn’t bite back a low groan. As the sound escaped him, she smiled.

  Devious woman. She was toying with him.

  “Can you feel that?” she asked, swirling her finger around the center of his hand.

  Hell yes. He could feel the warmth between her legs, the strength of her inner thighs squeezing his middle, the air growing heavy with tension.

  Never had these feelings stirred inside him without being accompanied by a hunger pain.

  “And this?” She brushed her hand along the side where he’d been stabbed. The skin was numb, like it’d fallen asleep. Her touch brought shivers to the surface and spread across his skin like wildfire. “You weren’t able to feel anything last night.”

  “Last night?”

  Realization crashed over him. He’d been knocked out much longer than he thought. Shit, this wasn’t good. If he was out longer than a day, his voices would resurface. When that happened, Dante would need to feed if he didn’t want to cause a Black Moon bloodbath. If Ariana thought the Watchers were monsters, she had no clue.

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Two days.”

  “Two days?” Dante’s head went light. Bashing Slimeball’s head in back at Mirage should’ve satiated his hunger for half a day. Twenty-four hours, tops. The voices were going to come back with a vengeance, and Ariana was too close for comfort. “Shit. I gotta get out of here.”

  Without thinking, Dante sat upright. He’d planned to move Ariana off him, swing his legs over the bed and get the hell out of there. Wherever here was, exactly. But he’d forgotten he still had no use of his legs.

  Ariana scooted back, but only so Dante could sit up fully. Her legs remained around his lap, her breasts tantalizingly close to brushing his chest. He suddenly couldn’t move, though it had nothing to do with the paralyzing state of his body.

  When she licked her lips, something inside him snapped.

  His arms snaked around her back and his lips crushed hers. She whimpered, her back going stiff before finally melting in his arms. Her lips were softer than he could’ve imagined, velvety and plush. And when those succulent lips parted for him, the kiss burned to his toes.

  Her tongue slipped into this mouth, stroking his softly as if asking the most intimate of questions. He answered back, pressing her closer, devouring more and more of her mouth. Heat seared across his skin as his stomach churned with the need to lie her down and take more.

  Soft pangs of bloodlust hit his fangs, and as they dropped past his gums, he nipped at her lip. She gasped, pulling back for a moment before diving into his mouth again.

  She was hot. On fire. Drowning him in scorching heat.

  He had to have her.

  But when Dante’s insides went tingly numb, and hunger hollowed out his stomach, he pulled back completely.

  He’d been unconscious too long.

  All of his well-made plans to follow breadcrumbs to this place and be with Ariana, all the thoughts of protecting her and being by her side . . . they were for nothing. Two days that he might’ve been able to spend with her vanished—poof!—into thin air.

  He had to leave before the voices surfaced and tempted him to do something he’d regret.

  But she was warm in his arms. A perfect fit. It was like she belonged there, with her legs clenching around his lap, her arms coiled around his neck, and her breath hitching as she drank him in with seductive brown eyes.

  How easy it would be to kiss her until he lost himself, until he couldn’t tell up from down or salt from sour. His hands would caress her skin until he memorized every soft line, every gentle curve of her glorious body. How heavenly it would feel to pull tiny vines of sexual energy from her body to his. It’d be pure ecstasy. Like curling up in bed on a Sunday afternoon.

  No.

  No matter how hungry he was, he couldn’t feed from Ariana. Couldn’t fill up on her sexual energy. Everything he knew about her was good and innocent and pure. He couldn’t take that innocent energy from her. Couldn’t suck it from her soul.

  He knew too well what she’d be left with if he did.

  “Don’t tell me you’re stopping now . . .” She tunneled her fingers through his hair and went in for another kiss.

 
“Damn it, no.” Dante gently lifted Ariana off him. “How fast can you finish this shit up with my legs so I can get out of here?”

  She slid off the bed and stood a good distance away, glaring through narrowed eyes. “Is that what you want? To leave?”

  “Yes,” he growled, though the sound came out harsher than he’d meant it.

  He had to leave Black Moon. At least until he got a handle on his hunger. What choice did he have? No matter how he wanted to stay, it wasn’t safe. He couldn’t chance losing control and hurting her.

  She paused, chewing on the side of her lip, measuring him with a pissed-off glare in her eye. Tension whipped around the room and coiled around Dante’s neck, strangling his windpipe. He wished she’d just say something.

  Why wasn’t she saying anything?

  “You’re so weak,” she said finally, shaking her head.

  She approached the bed and flipped the sheet over his right leg, exposing his left. The massage continued, but her fingers dug into his flesh, probed and poked deep into his tissue.

  She was taking out her anger.

  “Of course I’m in a weakened state,” he said, trying, failing to move his leg of his own accord.

  “I wasn’t referring to your recovery.” She gouged a sensitive part of his quad with the tip of her finger. “I was talking about your character.”

  That one hurt. This time it wasn’t the massage that had somehow shifted from electric to torturous.

  Dante wished he could explain himself, but Ariana wouldn’t understand. He was sickened with evil, his soul tainted by the filth he’d absorbed during his life. He couldn’t mesh that evil with her innocence. He couldn’t take advantage of her sexual energy, fully knowing how good it’d taste and how whole he’d feel, if only for a day or two.

  “Ariana,” he began, but she threw up a hand to stop him.

  “Save it,” she said. “I need to focus, and your voice is distracting.”

  What else was there to say anyway? He’d rejected her and couldn’t explain why. It was easier not to think about her touch if he didn’t meet her eyes, so he scoped out his surroundings instead.

  He was in a hotel room of sorts, but it was ritzier than any he’d ever stayed in. It was decorated with richly oiled mahogany armoires, heavy gold curtains, and lace dripping over everything. Not the Motel 6’s he was used to when he teleported somewhere sticky.

  As her hands kneaded the flesh of his thighs and calves, harder and harder, Dante’s senses roused even more. Even through the pain, his hunger was increasing, fueled by her natural scent, her beauty, her innocence.

  He spoke quickly to distract himself from his thirst. “How’d we get here . . . to Black Moon?”

  “Pike said he would grant us safe passage if I brought you back.” She shot the words out in a single breath. She wouldn’t be forgetting his rejection anytime soon.

  Ariana dropped the sheet back into place and revealed his other leg. Her fingers poked into his flesh, digging into his hamstring. Through the pain, tiny electric currents accompanied her touch, warming Dante from the inside out.

  “Did Ruan make it out?” Dante asked, trying not to take a deep breath. He didn’t want to chance being hit with her lavender aroma. “Is he here, too?”

  “No, he went back to Crimson Bay, but he’s made contact with our Primus.” She sighed. “He said the last standing member of the Crimson Council has demanded a private meeting to discuss the state of our race. They’ll all be on our doorstep midnight tonight.”

  Last standing Crimson Council member?

  Slade.

  “Wait,” Dante caught up to speed. “What do you mean all? Who’ll be on your doorstep?”

  “Ruan is demanding housing for the two hundred vampires who are hiding at ReVamp.”

  “Guess Ruan figures if they’re sitting at your Primus’s front door, he won’t be able to turn them away.”

  Her fingers slowed as life came back to the rest of Dante’s lower half. He flipped his eyes open and chanced a glance at her face. The soft lines of her nose and chin were shadowed, but Dante could still see the smoothness of her cheek, the creaminess of her lips, and the long curl of her eyelashes. She looked like one of the angel statues that surrounded his parents’ graves, solemn and graceful.

  “You have to tell Ruan to stay in the city.” Her hands stilled. “You have to tell him to turn back.”

  “I don’t have anything to do with what’s going on at ReVamp,” Dante said. “He won’t listen to me.”

  More than that, Dante thought. Ruan shouldn’t listen to him. He was trouble. The black smudge on a thousand records.

  “You have to try.” Ariana pushed away from the bed as if she couldn’t stand another second being in such close proximity to him. “I can’t expect you to understand the severity of our situation, but it’s imperative Ruan and the vamps at ReVamp remain where they are. Our Primus won’t let those vampires enter our haven. After what happened the other night, there’s no telling what the Watchers will do to them when they’re left in the forest outside our front gate. If you value their safety at all, you’ll tell them not to come.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” Not when he’d just lost two days and his voices were bound to rise up any minute. He had to get out of here. He sat up, the area around his wound sore but healed. “Where’d you put my clothes?”

  After digging through the armoire on the other side of the room, Ariana came out with a pair of leather pants and a black shirt, then hung them over her arms.

  “You can’t leave now; sunset isn’t for another hour.” She pulled out a black robe and draped it over the other clothes. “Thanks to Pike your clothes were tore up pretty bad. I picked these up from the haven cleaners for you. I guessed your size.”

  “I can leave anytime I want. I don’t sunburn.” Dante held out his hand, waiting. How much time did he have left? “Give me the clothes.”

  Ariana stopped when she reached the edge of the bed. “You can walk in daylight? I thought only elders could do that, but you’re not—”

  “Normal,” Dante finished for her. “No. I’m not. Now if you’d stop looking at me with those big doe eyes and hand my clothes back, I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  She clutched his clothes, shaking her head. It was almost like she enjoyed the prospect of keeping him prisoner where she could torture him in her own way, with questioning eyes and a whipping tongue.

  “I’ll walk through Black Moon in my birthday suit,” Dante said, cocking a brow. “It won’t bother me in the least. And if you think I can’t snatch those clothes from your fingers right now, you’re delirious. I’m trying to be respectful because this is your home, but you’re making it difficult.”

  “Here’s the way I see it.” She chucked the clothes at him. “The Watchers want you alive and kicking. You can’t tell me you don’t want to know why they let you go when they had you good and dead. Your friend is coming with some sort of vamp caravan and will be on our doorstep in a few hours, and our Primus has requested a meeting with you. You might as well stay until your friends get here. You can head back to the city with Ruan later.”

  “Well don’t you have it all figured out.”

  “Yeah,” she said, her face illuminated by the soft glow of a candle. Even in light, she was radiant. “I do.”

  He had to admit Ariana was right. There were things he wanted to figure out before he teleported back to the city. Like why she made his heart beat fast and his chest tighten up. Dante decided then and there; the instant his voices returned, he’d leave.

  Looked like his schedule was penned in blood.

  Chapter Ten

  “TRY TO REMEMBER what I told you,” Ariana said, leading Dante through the halls of their haven. “Don’t speak unless
our Primus asks you a question, answer briefly and clearly, and whatever you do, don’t insult him.”

  “What makes you think I would do that?”

  She rolled her eyes as they turned near the giant hearth and passed two vamps who were arguing about the latest winner of Bloodlust Survivor. That is, they were loud and argumentative until they spotted Ariana. Once they realized who she was, they smiled politely and lowered their gazes reverently.

  When was this going to quit? Her maware was astral-projecting, not influencing the hearts of others, so she really didn’t know how to explain what was happening to her khissmates. Some consulted with her before major decisions, while others followed her around the haven as if they were lost puppy dogs and Ariana could light their way home.

  Whatever the reason for her khissmates’ change of behavior, she wished it’d stop.

  Dante kept walking, but he craned his neck around as the couple passed. “What was that about?”

  “I haven’t the slightest,” she said, speeding her pace. “But it’s getting weirder around here. They’re staring longer, whispering as they walk by. It’s almost like they think I’m some sort of Black Moon celebrity. It’s unnerving as hell.”

  Although Ariana was starting to think there was more behind their lingering looks—they were borderline worshipful—she didn’t mention it. Dante probably already thought she was nuts. She didn’t know why she was sharing this with him or why she chose this moment to do it. Maybe he was the only one who’d ever asked. . . .

  He patted down the robe she’d given him. Even though he matched the others’ attire when they met with the Primus, the formality of the robe didn’t suit Dante well. The muscles bulging out of his back stretched the collar, and the bulky round of his biceps had tightened the sleeves.

  “You sure they weren’t gawking at my good looks?” he asked.

  “Hardly.”

  Though Ariana wasn’t gawking at the moment, she couldn’t get images of his naked body out of her mind. She’d gotten more than an eyeful while he was out—the defined lines of his chest draping down to a chiseled stomach that led to . . . God, she couldn’t believe the size of him! She should’ve known he’d be packing the largest weapon she’d ever seen. He was her fantasy come to life in every other regard, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Flashes of heat pulsed through her just thinking about it. She clamped down the thoughts before he could sense her rising excitement.