by Seth Eden
Before she dug her phone out of her jeans pocket, an angry voice said from across the room, "Hey! Room's taken."
Surprised, Kiera looked around. A group of girls sat in a huddle near a fireplace that looked cheery despite clearly being the kind that's turned on and off with a switch. Four of them looked at her with varying degrees of dislike, despite being strangers, but the fifth glared at her with definite ill-will. No doubt she was the one who had shouted at Kiera.
Can't say I wasn't warned. But this wasn't looking out for one's self. This was hostility for the sake of it, the kind of thing she'd hoped not to deal with when high school had finally ended.
Kiera held her phone up. "Just wanted to see if I get reception in here. Do you know – "
But the girl was out of her seat and across the room in a flash. Built like a fireplug, she had impressive muscle and about a yard of long weirdly caramel colored hair, but she came to Kiera's chin.
That made her no less threatening.
One finger poking into Kiera's face, she said, "I. Didn't. Ask You. Why." Every word came out with a kind of East Coast accent. "Didn't" was clipped, somehow managing to miss the second "D." "Ask" came out "ast."
The girl came off as one of the psycho types Kiera had been thinking of. "Chill," she said, holding up both hands as she started to back out. "I can do this somewhere else."
Only the other girl chased her, the four behind her chorusing, "Sydney, she's not worth your time!"
Sydney apparently thought she was. She flashed across the room and pinned Kiera to the wall with one hand on her throat before Kiera fully grasped just how stupid the situation was growing.
When fact caught up to her, about the time her back slammed into a framed inspirational business poster tacked to the wall, she brought both hands up to break Sydney's grip.
And didn't have to. Because something lifted Sydney off her and threw her like a ragdoll to crash down on the sofa, a tangle of limbs, unhurt but shocked.
Kiera blinked up into Loren's face. "What happened?"
"Are you all right?"
She started to nod, because Sydney hadn't ever gotten a good grip on her throat, but a rush of want filled her that was absurd and meaningless. It was all she could do not to reach out for him at the same time something in her cringed away because if he was here –
If he was here in the crèche, with her, did that mean - ? And, oh, god, she wanted him right then, it made no sense, but it was the first time in so long someone had needed to take care of her. She'd come all over girly, her heart pounding, her breath shallow, and still he was watching her, looking deadly and worried at the same time.
"She didn't hurt me."
"I can kill her for that," he said, his skin suffusing with a pale lavender, probably the color of anger on the pale Vampyren. "For what she did to you. You're the chosen of a –" He broke off without finishing whatever he'd been starting to say and turned to look for the girl, who had already scuttled off the couch. Kiera reached forward instinctively and put a hand on his forearm.
"Please. Don't."
Not seeing Sydney, he turned back and looked at her curiously. "She attacked you." The anger was burning in him. First he'd been refused his request to have Kiera to himself and now this.
"Yes, she did," she said fast. She didn't have time to hit the delicate points. She just said, "She's scared, like the rest of us. If you hurt her, you'll make it worse for me. She'll come after me when you're not here."
"Then I'll – "
"You'll nothing. Please." Because that You'll nothing hadn't quite come out like she meant it to.
With a final look around the rapidly emptying common room, he turned his gaze back to hers.
His eyes were full of something else now. Not anger. Want. There was no way it could be more than breeding that he wanted. They didn't know each other. She wasn't the mate he'd left behind. He wasn't Aaron or anyone she'd ever had feelings for.
But when he held out a hand to her, she took it, not breaking eye contact as she let him lead her to one of the rooms down adjacent halls, away from the sleeping quarters of the girls. Using a key, he unlocked it, ushered her in, and closed and locked it behind them. That made her slightly claustrophobic, but when she turned and saw his eyes, her fear, stupidly, vanished.
"Come here."
His voice was husky, barely more than a whisper, but she moved to him without hesitation, reached up to put both hands on his chest, the way she'd been wanting to do for too long now, she found herself thinking, and asked without intending to, "Are you using pheromones on me?"
As far as she could tell, he answered her honestly. "I am not. What you feel, you feel. You don't have to fight it or be embarrassed by it."
I hope not.
She did not expect him to move gently. The Vampyren were anything but gentle. They were warriors and killers and conquerors. From those who had gone rogue, those who joined up with humans or talked to them in bars, she knew that the females were such warriors and so bloodlust-crazy they often killed their mates after breeding.
Which was one of the reasons the males propagated the line by using human females or females of any species they could breed with on whatever planets they took. When the men of the planet were forced to go with Vampyren females, they not only died, the children were routinely considered food stock.
The idea in the past had made her shudder. Now it only flitted through her mind, meaningless information. Kiera had never considered having children. Probably she had another twenty years to make the decision, or she had until the invaders came.
The idea of having a half-breed alien child terrified her. The idea of being bred by beings that would allow the mother to die as so much chattel that had done its duty and was now unnecessary terrified her.
But the man in front of her, Vampyren or not, for the moment, he was what she wanted.
His skin felt slightly cold to the touch. She'd never voluntarily touched one of them before and now she wondered with their blood drinking and behaving like Earth's fictional vampires, were they cold blooded like lizards? It would explain the desert hot planet they came from and their love of Earth's hottest reaches. It would explain the unfettered killing spree the Chicago winter was creating – they'd need more blood than ever to survive it.
He touched her face gently, his long fingers easily cupping her cheek, wrapping to the back of her skull. He could crush her, she knew, but the thought only sent a shiver of excitement through her that detonated between her legs, building the fire there higher. Her nipples tightened, her mouth watered, she was wet and wanting and she knew he could smell her, the changes in her blood if nothing else.
More likely he could smell the tang of her desire.
He stroked her face, let his fingers run into her hair, and all the while Kiera stroked his chest, pulling the military jacket from him, then the tight, long-sleeved undershirt he wore. She had to go up on tiptoes to get the shirt over his head, and lost her balance partway through, spilling onto his chest.
He watched her with only the slightest of quirks to his mouth. The invaders rarely smiled, even more rarely laughed. But their eyes could express volumes, she realized, watching him as he let her touch him.
Her hands moved over his arms, the biceps rock solid, veins of deep purple along the pale skin dusted with dusky hair. They were dark men, most of them heavily bearded, but pale skinned in these cold months. She wondered now at the glints of gold in his hair, the tawny coloring along the pale, and the way his jaw was covered with stubble, a few days worth but not a full beard. He wasn't the same as the others, and she mocked herself for the thought.
He was violent and deadly and he had as much as given Dave to his brother. She had heard the screams. And he was giving Diane and Stu to the Council to dispose of and soon.
But with her?
He's different with me, she thought and instantly refuted it. It was the excuse given by every human female ever to enter into a domestic violence rela
tionship..
In that instant, she knew maybe he was different with her and maybe he wasn't. Nothing about the relationship was voluntary. She had no choice.
And if she had no choice and he affected her like this? She might as well go for it. When would she have the option for sex of her choosing again? Or gentleness?
Her hands slid over the thickness of his pecs, the smooth skin and the hard, hard muscle. She lavished attention on his nipples and saw him draw in breath, as if no one had ever done that to him before.
Likely they hadn't. She licked and sucked and took a chance and bit and felt him shudder beneath her ministrations as if all this was new.
Probably it was. Vampyren enjoyed sex with their mates when not breeding. The women were adventurous and uninhibited, but slip over into breeding and they were deadly.
It would be hard to relax under such conditions and probably unlikely such mates spent a lot of time doing things simply –
because –
they felt –
good.
She licked a line, sensual, slow and hot, down the amazing musculature of his abdominals. What would bodybuilders of the human persuasion give to have abs like this? Slow and sexy, feeling him respond to her, until she reached the line of tawny hair that led down into the trousers he wore and he stopped her, pulled her up into his arms, reluctantly.
He kissed her, then, his mouth cool but no less exciting for that. His tongue was rough, unfamiliar, like a cat's tongue. He teased her lips with it, forced them apart and found her tongue, playing over and around it. All the while his hands were in her hair, his fingers knotting and smoothing it, pulling it a little, then bunching it into a fist at the nape of her neck.
His other hand moved around and found her breast, laying flat over it all at once, as if taking possession, before he began to rub, his palm causing fiction there, her nipple growing harder, standing out, longing for his touch. She wanted to break from the kiss so he'd duck his head and take the other one in his mouth, or let go of her hair and put both hands on her and then when he did she'd want him to move on with it, to touch her between her legs where she was burning hot, aching for him.
He did none of those things. Instead, he pulled her arms up around his neck, and lifted her still clothed, his hands under her ass, so her legs went round his waist. He carried her then, across the small office-made-bedroom, and pressed her up against the window there, the whole of Chicago spread below her a couple stories down. She gasped at the cold of the window even through her clothes, then clung to him, kissing his neck, biting his ear.
He kissed her again, pulling at her shirt now, at her bra, stopping in confusion at the pullover jog bra she wore. Kiera felt a laugh building up, stupid because he might take offense, but he looked so utterly confused.
"It's for running," she said, and pulled back in his arms, trusting, for some reason, that he would keep her torso supported with his hands as she pulled the thing over her head. "So they don't bounce." She was blushing.
He frowned at her. "So they don't – "
She dropped the jog bra and put her hands under her breasts, offering them up. "My breasts. It hurts to run if they bounce."
His eyes left her face and went to her breasts, and then he wasn't supporting her torso and she clung to him while both hands went to her nipples, stroking. She arched against him, made a sound like a purr or a growl, her legs tightening on his waist.
He carried her away from the window then, a murmured, "Hold on," and he was laying her gently on the bed, bending over her, his mouth on her nipples, his fangs dropping down to graze so gently, but with threat always on the far side, the way she had sometimes, only rarely, used just the edge of her teeth when going down on Aaron. Just enough to force trust into the oral.
She writhed under him. He had said he wasn't using pheromones and she believed him, but whatever this was, it was powerful and mind-blowing. She wanted him every way she could imagine and when he moved to unbutton her jeans, she thrust her hips up to him to make it easier.
He laughed then, so they could laugh, his voice thick and deep as he whispered, "Yes," drawing out the "s" and then he was running his eyes over her whole body as she lay nude and winter white before him.
She blushed, her blood flaring, and saw his nostrils twitch, his fangs slide just a tiny bit lower, and for an instant she was scared. But if he was going to feed, at least she'd be unafraid when it happened and please, please let her come first.
She reached for him, intending to drag him down to her, but he evaded her hands, running his sharp nailed fingers over the insides of her thighs and she thought of the artery that beat there, inside her, close to the juncture with torso. Sever it, open it, and death was guaranteed and fast.
His mouth there, her imagination, and then, no, reality, she'd never imagined his mouth cool, there was a heat in his eyes and a heat to him even if when she touched him, he was cold. She shuddered at his mouth, looking down at where he sucked and licked, wondering if he intended to take her that way.
It had nothing to do with breeding.
He didn't, and she lay back, both frustrated and relieved. That had never been her preference. She was all about –
Cock. She heard his trousers hit the floor, pulled herself up to her elbows to look and sucked in her breath. She was only five-foot-two, her own brother towered over her and the Vampyren, while maybe a couple inches shy of seven feet, the shortest of the band that had come for them, still he was huge compared to her.
His cock jutted out hard and thick and beaded with want, as thick as her wrist and hard as anything she'd ever had the instant need to reach out and stroke. He had to be eight or nine inches long and there was no way all of that would fit inside her, no way she could even think she was ready for something that size.
At the same time her body was responding, anxious and eager, making her wetter and slicker and hotter and more open. She reached for him, pulling him down to the bed on top of her and he said something she wouldn't have ever expected Vampyren to say: "I don't want to hurt you."
"I don't want to be hurt." She licked at his mouth and felt a laugh go through him this time. "But I want you inside me."
He kissed her then. "When I start."
She thought he might not finish what he had begun to say but he breathed out. "I may not be able to stop. Even if I hurt you."
So no safe word, she thought, a little wildly. She didn't say it. She didn't want to confuse or slow him.
She just wanted him.
"Please," she said.
He laid her back on the bed, and followed her down, his body eclipsing hers. He positioned himself between her legs, watching her face, kissing her mouth, her jaw, her breasts.
But when the tip of his cock found her entrance, he pushed into her without stopping even as she cried out and her body fought him. Inexorable, not unkind but somehow not there, he pushed into her, his hips pushing him in, and in, and in. Kiera's body throbbed and screamed the way it had when she was a seventeen year old virgin, her first time in the back of Cory Ridhouse's Toyota truck hand-me-down, the moon above them and Kiera feeling like she was going to split in two.
This time it really seemed like a possibility and she was starting to panic, to want to free herself, asking why she'd done this, when suddenly the pressure eased and the pain, all at once, became the most intense pleasure she'd ever known.
The instant the pain fled she slid further beneath him, cocked her hips up and wrapped her legs around his lower back. Sensing the difference, he dug deeper into her, took up a rhythm and began to thrust into her, deep and slow and constant, so the pleasure coiled in her. In her stomach, between her legs, her clit brushed him with every move, her breasts against his chest, his tongue in her ear or his breath in her hair, his arms holding him just far enough above her so she could breathe. Her own hands traced designs on his back, her fingernails raked his skin, she ran her hands into his hair, she balled the sheets in her fists.
&nbs
p; The orgasm grew from every point in her body, from ears, and nipples, and fingertips and clit, all of it rushing together until she spilled over the edge and came, pulsing, clit exploding, her hot, wet core pulsing and sucking him in with every heartbeat-echoing spasm.
Then she lay under him, feeling him empty himself deep inside her, his back arched, his head thrown back, his arms straining. He came, and the moment seemed endless.
When he was drained he toppled off her to the side, lay breathing hard, reaching even then to rest one hand across her stomach, the two of them wet with sweat, hers, she thought, it seemed unlikely he sweated, but his skin was warmer now, as if he'd taken something away with him from their encounter.
They lay together, breathing hard, as outside the snow blanketed the city and insane vampires killed and humans ran and nothing was right or under control.
For just a little while, Kiera didn't care.
When she woke, having slept, trusting and stupid, in his arms, he was watching her. Kiera surprised herself by blushing.
He ran a finger from her forehead down the length of her nose, then touched her lower lip. "There's something I have to tell you."
She instantly stiffened waiting for the worst. Like she was pregnant and he knew it. Or she couldn't get pregnant and her life was now forfeit.
Or something worse?
"What?"
"Your father," he started and she froze, afraid to breathe. He didn't seem to notice because he didn't hurry, just said thoughtfully, "They're interested in his illness."
She sat up then, clutching a blanket around her shoulders and over her breasts. "Who are interested in what about his illness?" Her teeth chattered in the sudden cold as she pulled away from him.
"Scientists," he said. "They're the same in every culture, I promise you. They do not care that your father is human. The are simply interested in his sickness. What's it called again?"