Damned by Blood fb-3

by Evie Byrne

  “I’ve already tasted you.”

  “Not deep. You haven’t seen much at all. You’re going to see everything.”

  “I don’t scare easily.” He drew her hair over to one shoulder, baring the side of her neck. Her hands tightened on him. Nuzzling her ear, he murmured, “I promise.”

  She made a small, despairing noise—but it wasn’t a no. If she meant no, she’d knee him in the balls. Instead, she hooked her hands through the ropes on his chest and braced herself.

  This time he would take her blood the right way. He found her clit again. She questioned him with her eyes. With his free hand he caressed her throat until the questions faded away and her neck swayed under his touch. Her sweet spot was exactly one inch beneath her earlobe.

  “I’m not biting.” He sent the assurance as he bent to that vulnerable spot, first tasting it with the tip of his tongue, then lavishing it with tiny nips and sucking kisses. A long shiver passed down her spine. At the same time he increased pressure on her clit, making her pant.

  Her pulse beat faster and faster, the sound of it dragging him into insanity. He left the sweet spot, plundered her whole throat.

  “Mikhail! What are you––? Oh!”

  As she peaked, he sank his nails into her lush ass and held her tight against him, stilling her. She stiffened, breathless, suspended on the brink. He took her throat in his teeth.

  “Don’t hate me—”

  He broke her flesh and she came, jerking helplessly in his arms, her consciousness shattered, along with all her defenses.

  Like a city after a long siege, she opened her gates. He walked in, unarmed.

  And inside, all he found was the heart which he already knew as well as his own. There was nothing there that could not be forgiven.

  “Don’t you know you’re the other half of my soul?”

  “Filthy as I am?”

  “Perfect, as you are.” Brave, fierce, strong, resilient, clever, passionate and tender. Yes, tender, beneath it all.

  The stories of her life passed into him as he drank, one glimmering image after another. They rushed to fill up all those vacant spaces he’d held open for her all these years.

  When he came back to himself, he found they’d fallen on their sides. For the first time in his life, he felt replete.

  Alya lay limp in his arms, flushed and tousled and oddly shy. She touched his cheek.

  “Mikhail?”

  “Hmm?”

  The corners of her mouth curled into a wicked smile as she slid off of him. “You can come now.” He’d forgotten his body entirely. “I don’t—” he began, but didn’t finish, because the orgasm was there, waiting, and at her command it hit him like a knockout punch.

  “How do you feel?”

  He’d stopped twitching, but his eyes still hadn’t focused.

  “Deboned,” he croaked.

  “And you like it?”

  He rolled his head her direction and met her eyes. A slow, satisfied, unspeakably sexy smile spread across his face. He was happy. She wanted to keep him that way. She’d spend all her spare hours contriving ways to make him give her that smile.

  He drew her to his chest. She felt safe there, pressed against his heart.

  “I underestimated you. I’ve been such a bitch.”

  When he didn’t rush to reassure her otherwise, she laughed. Mikhail was no flatterer.

  “And what was I? Some asshole threatening you with a rope?” he said. “I’m no good at courting.”

  “Courtship? Is that what this has been?”

  “Isn’t this how other people do it?”

  He was perfectly deadpan. The man did indeed have a sense of humor. Propping herself up on her elbow, she smoothed his hair out of his eyes. “This is for real, isn’t it?”

  He caught her hand and kissed the palm. The warm lights in his eyes said believe.

  “And the terms you named—you can live with them?”

  “I wouldn’t have named them otherwise.”

  “But a knyaz is expected to take a wife. To produce heirs.”

  “I don’t need that to be happy.” Lazy, he circled her breast with his forefinger. “All I want is you. Exactly as we are now.”

  “But your family will demand that we marry—”

  “They will be told what they need to know. They’ll support whatever I choose.”

  “Easy to say, but I remember your mother.”

  Mikhail laughed aloud. He sounded like a consumptive seal. He needed more practice. She added another item to her to-do list.

  “What are you going to do with Dominick?” he asked.

  “Skin him alive.”

  Mikhail grunted his disapproval. There was a definite man crush going on between those two.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she admitted. “Depends on why he did it, and I can’t know that until we get out of here. Do you want to try the door again?”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

  Alya stretched, a long, luxurious flexing of the spine, trying to remember the last time she felt so good. “We do have a blood bond to complete, I suppose.”

  “And I have questions.” He rolled over and picked up the discarded mask. “Questions about these things of yours. How you use them.”

  Even after seeing him in bondage, she couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that he was still curious, that he might want to do it again. “What would you like to know?”

  “Well, first I’d like to know why you have fifteen boxes of cling wrap in your cabinet.”

  “Oh, my sweet innocent.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dominick planted himself in front of the door. “They’re not to be disturbed.”

  “Goddamn you. You’ve sealed my brother in the cellar—”

  “Along with my prince.”

  “Exactly. You’ve entombed my brother in a cellar with the Wicked Witch of the West.”

  “Gregor.” Maddy put her hand on his arm. “Hear him out.”

  “They’ve not murdered each other, that I’m sure. I’ve heard them laughing.”

  Gregor said, “Mikhail never laughs.”

  Maddy liked Alya’s handsome lieutenant, and she didn’t think he was lying. If Alya Adad employed men like him, she couldn’t be all that bad. But Gregor wasn’t patient at the best of times, and all the way to Los Angeles he’d been on edge, worried for Mikhail and for the whole family. Something had to give, and soon.

  Gregor picked up the screw gun. “I’m not waiting. I don’t trust this fucked-up matchmaking scheme of yours.”

  Dominick stepped forward, fist raised.

  Maddy slid between them. “Dominick, you’ll agree they have to come out sooner or later, right? Why not now?”

  “If they’re happy just now, I want them to stay that way. Let it sink in to their thick heads that they’re good for one another.”

  Maddy said, “You think they’re a good match?”

  “Mrs. Faustin, I know my prince.”

  She squeezed his arm and they shared a smile of understanding. The tension dissolved. “That’s wonderful, but they can’t live in the basement for the rest of their lives. Let Gregor unscrew the door. Mikhail will want to see us, I’m sure of it.”

  Dominick agreed reluctantly. It took a long time to take the bracings off the door. Considering all the racket, she was surprised—and a little worried—that Mikhail didn’t come up and speak to them through the door.

  Gregor ventured down first, moving cautiously, keeping her behind him with one hand. Dominick brought up the rear. She supposed he had more to fear than either of them. The narrow stairway emptied into a dim room, very leathery and red, like the door above. The first thing Maddy saw was a scary looking cage. The next, a set of broken chains dangling from the cracked ceiling.

  “Sweet fucking Jesus,” Gregor whispered.

  She followed his gaze to the floor and saw Mikhail and a tawny goddess lying together in gorgeous tangle of flesh. Not dead, but
deeply, profoundly asleep.

  They slept in a nest of what looked like yards and yards of shredded plastic wrap. Around them lay a debris field made up of every sex toy Maddy could name, and others she’d never even imagined.

  Mikhail was smiling.

  Epilogue

  Six months later, Central Park

  “That one.” Mikhail pointed to a man walking alone fifty yards away. Alya leaned forward to see him better. The tree branch they shared creaked in protest.

  “Too skinny.”

  “Picky.”

  “I’m famished. I want someone I can really tap.”

  He lifted his nose, testing the air. “Snow’s coming.”

  Alya caught the scent. “You’re right.”

  A woman with a stroller walked beneath them, followed by an old lady with a tiny dog. The dog glanced up at them, tucked its tail between its legs and scooted away. Alya kicked her heels in the air, admiring her cashmere tights and new half boots. She’d missed shopping in New York. Beside her, Mikhail scanned the darkness, intent on hunting. She didn’t want to go home the next night. Though she never would have believed it a year ago, she liked sharing a bed with Mikhail Faustin and waking up together at sunset. When he was with her, she didn’t need pills to sleep and never had nightmares. As he’d promised, he was her shield.

  “Dominick says I’m intolerable when I come back from visiting you.”

  Mikhail glanced her way with a half smile, but said nothing.

  “And I smoke way too much.”

  That got his attention. “Since when do you smoke?”

  “When I’m alone. I have to do something with my mouth.” She batted her eyes at him. He was learning to laugh, but he didn’t laugh now. Instead his gaze flicked across her lips.

  Alya’s breath caught in her throat. Living separately was almost worth this love junkie’s paradise of intense good-byes and sweat-soaked reunions.

  “And Lulu. She’s a wreck without you.” Invoking the cat. How pathetic can you be?

  “I suppose this means I should visit more often.” He dropped his voice to that suggestive rumble that gave her goose bumps. He knew it did too, the bastard. “That way I can save you from yourself, Dominick from you, and the cat from despair.”

  “I have a better idea.” For a moment she lost courage, realizing how much she needed him to agree. Even now, it was hard to admit how much she needed him. She made sure her tone was breezy and her mind tight. “I’ve been thinking maybe we should go bi-coastal. Alternate households by quarters. Say, fall in the city, winter in LA…”

  Mikhail frowned. She wilted inside. She knew he’d hate this idea. He said, “We’d each leave our territories unattended for half the year?”

  “That’s what the Internet and airplanes are for.”

  “Dominick could hold things on your end. Maybe. But Gregor isn’t ready, and he’s so busy with his clubs.”

  “Spoken like a true big brother. Gregor’s all grown up. He could do it if you gave him a chance. You’re a phone call away, and he’d have your dad to advise him and Alex to back him up.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if I could ever rest easy.” He stared off into space, considering, his face troubled. Suddenly, he tensed and lifted his hand. He’d caught scent of something interesting. A moment later, a hairy giant of a man strode out of a stand of trees. He was a teamster, or a lumberjack, or maybe a sasquatch. Something huge. Three hundred pounds of good eating.

  “Go get him.”

  Alya wanted an answer to her question first.

  “I’ll think about it.” Mikhail never did anything without thinking. A lot.

  “I’m serious.” She leaned over to kiss him. At first he just accepted the kiss, his lips molding under hers. Neither of them made any move to part. The kiss continued, his mouth hardened and he grabbed the back of her neck. His strong fingers were encased in a fine leather glove. The world titled at a crazy angle, and she started sliding down, down, down…

  Back down the rabbit hole.

  Eavesdropping, he said, “I like getting lost.”

  Alya smiled into the kiss then nibbled his lower lip, but he found his self-control and pushed away. “Go. You might lose him.”

  When she hesitated, he pressed his lips to the back of her hand. It was the gentlest of dismissals. “Go.”

  Too hungry to argue anymore, she dropped noiselessly from the tree and took off after her prey. In the dark, and at the speed she moved, humans would perceive her as nothing more than a shadow, a trick of the eye.

  She tailed him until he passed a promising clump of shrubbery. The classy thing to do would be to talk to him, fascinate him into joining her in the shrubbery, but she didn’t feel like being gentle. Instead she ran straight at him and tackled him, driving him straight through the shrubs to the hidden ground behind. He fought for half a second, until she captured his will. Hidden by the darkness, she drank deep, rubbing herself against his knee. She was so accustomed to combining sex and feeding, she could hardly separate the two. Mikhail might be a pristine hunter, but feeding turned her on like a light bulb.

  Still, she didn’t violate the man too much, just indulged in a little surreptitious frottage. Nothing worse than he might get on a crowded subway. When she was done, she carried him to a park bench to recover.

  Despite his general disdain for humans, Mikhail protected the humans in his territory more vigorously than any prince she’d ever met. He enforced strict rules of vampire/human conduct, and driving a victim through a shrubbery and draining him into unconsciousness while dry humping him broke a few of those rules. Feeling guilty, she lingered in the shadows to make sure her lumberjack was okay. He’d remember nothing of the attack, only wonder how he’d gotten dirt and twigs all over his clothes. But if she’d taken too much blood, he might not wake up anytime soon, and end up mugged or arrested, or both. That wouldn’t be very nice.

  Bored—and horny—she reached for Mikhail’s mind and learned he was just finishing up a light feed nearby.

  Her victim slouched to one side. She righted him, holding him in place for a few seconds to make sure he balanced. When she let him go, his head fell backward and he began to snore.

  Shit. She tapped his cheek to see if she could wake him. “Hello? Excuse me?”

  “Did you enjoy taking him down rough?”

  Mikhail. Nearby. She swung around, searching for him. His position was shifting, his mind closed. He was fucking with her. Stalking her. She spun, spotting him out of the corner of her eye, then losing him again. Gooseflesh broke out on her outstretched arms. Her new boots cleared a circle in the fallen leaves as she turned around and around, trying to pinpoint his location.

  “You know I’m not housebroken.”

  “How would you like to be taken down like that?”

  The threat made her pulse jump. “I’d like to see you try, pretty boy.”

  “Christmas.”

  “What?” The question lingered around her lips as a puff of white fog. The temperature was dropping fast. She whipped her head around, certain he was closing.

  “We’ll split the year, just as you say, but I want to spend Christmas here.”

  Alya blinked in surprise. “Of cour—”

  He tackled her from the side. They ploughed through the shrub border and hit the ground. She landed fighting, but he had an advantage—a plan. In a few moves he had her pinned down, her arm twisted behind her back.

  He flipped her skirt up and circled his hand over her ass. “You know my word is law in this park. You have to be pun ished for breaking the rules.”

  “You’re going to pay for this,” she said, spitting out a dry leaf.

  “How?” He slipped his hand between her legs, his harsh breaths rasping in her ear. She knew she was burning hot. That she’d been wet for him since that kiss in the tree. “Tell me how I’m going to pay for this.”

  She knew he was serious. He wanted to know what she’d do to him later. It would make him all the
wilder now. She named her best weapon, the toy that fascinated and appalled him most. “You’ve yet to meet my strap-on. You know I’ll…” His hand cupped her. All her thoughts scattered. She couldn’t threaten anymore. Only want. “I’ll…I’ll…”

  “Tell me.” With one tug he ripped the crotch out of her brand new tights.

  “Hey, I just––”

  He crammed something in her mouth. Leather. One of his gloves. Her first response was to stiffen with anger, but he shoved her thong aside and pressed his fingers inside her. Her deep muscles throbbed around his fingers, welcoming the invasion. She bit down on the glove, shuddering, already perilously close to orgasm.

  “Why are you so wet? Were you thinking about fucking that human?” Mikhail slid his fingers back and forth, stroking her inner walls. “Did you rub against him? Did you put your hand on his cock?”

  Mikhail had never been so aggressive with her. It had been a very long time since she’d let anyone treat her like this. But she realized she trusted him enough to let him play rough. The realization washed over her, bringing with it a profound sense of relief.

  I’m safe.

  He withdrew his fingers, leaving her empty and aching. Still he kept her arm pinned with one hand. She could hear his harsh breathing, feel the hot, insistent weight of his cock pressing between her cheeks. “This,” he snapped. “Is this what you need?”

  She moaned into the glove. “Mm hm.”

  “Show me.”

  She tilted her hips up and spread her legs wide, trembling to have him inside.

  “Tell me!”

  “Yes. Please.”

  And he was parting her flesh, pressing inside, stretching, filling, possessing her entirely—but oh so slowly. When she tried to push against him and take him faster, he twisted her arm. He wanted her to be passive.

  She recognized in him the brutal satisfaction of taking what you want, exactly how you want, and didn’t begrudge him it. Instead, she found the strength to surrender, and when she did, she began to climax. The orgasm lengthened and deepened with each inch of his penetration. It was all she could do to keep quiet. She knew she was losing control, and she couldn’t stop it. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she began to convulse under him.