Bite Me: A Vampire Anthology

by Cain, Addison

  The man exhaled and tilted his head to one side. Leaned his tailbone against the counter. “Look,” he said, “that may be readily available underground? But up here it’s a controlled substance. I can’t just ‘go get some.’ ”

  November narrowed her eyes, but it only made him flail a hand.

  “I’m telling you,” he said. “I’d have to know someone in pharma—which I don’t”—he preempted her immediate question, jutting his chin forward—“and I’d have to risk my security clearance, AKA my whole job—as if I haven’t already done enough of that today—just asking someone to divert a shipment. I’m not gonna do it. Okay?”

  A controlled substance? Really? Was that just in S-Seattle, or all over the place? What the fuck would the negs do with it anyway? Who even cared?

  “So.” She shifted her weight. “You won’t take me back. And you won’t feed me.”

  Leo searched her face, frustration plain. November decided to push.

  “You think I’m a pain in your ass now?” she said. “Wait until I haven’t eaten for a couple more days.” One of the first things she’d lose control of was her temper. Negs may have coined the term ‘hangry,’ but vampires had given it teeth.

  The gate guard looked from her to the floor, the line of his mouth twisting down. “Ffuck.” He was going somewhere he clearly didn’t want to go. “You could …” A palm scrubbed at the side of his jaw. He met her eyes again. “I mean, I could …” His hands spread into a tentative shrug.

  November blinked at him. Then she laughed. “Are you kidding?”

  “I mean … it’s kind of my fault you’re even here.”

  Kind of?

  She tilted her head. “Have you ever been a live donor before?”

  Leo looked at his feet again. “Once. It’s a training requirement. So we … know what we’re up against.” A cringe of lines forked at one side of his face to admit it. She couldn’t tell whether he was disgusted by the memory or embarrassed by the way GateSec assumed half their own employees were no more than rabid dogs, even in this day and age.

  November adjusted the fold of her arms and the towel rubbed the gash on her ribs. “You know what?” she said. “Fine. Alright.” She would call his bluff. “In the bathtub.”

  His brows condensed. “What?”

  “I don’t have a lot of practice with live clean-up,” she said. “I’m gonna make a mess.” The threat of his own blood spilling would shut his bullshit offer right down.

  Her gate partner’s throat moved, swallowing at the new, close rush of reality. November couldn’t deny a small bloom of satisfaction at the response. She watched him inhale and exhale more than once, and make a purposeful effort to drop his shoulders. He’d be a bigger newb than she’d thought if he wasn’t at least somewhat nervous to make a live donation to a complete stranger in an uncontrolled environment. She wasn’t starving, so he probably wouldn’t get hurt.

  Probably.

  “Right now, I assume?” Here it came. He was going to back out.

  She gave him a frank look. “Yup.”

  Leo nodded, chewing the inside of his lower lip and breaking eye contact. “Okay,” he said. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

  He pushed himself away from the counter, whatever packaged meal he was going to make abandoned, and headed toward the bathroom.

  That’s fine. He can be dinner.

  November followed, in a sort of aloof skepticism, ready for him to freak out and double back at any step. He turned the light back on in the little room and was sliding the rediglass divider open on the tub by the time she stepped into the bathroom behind him.

  When he turned, she already had the towel draped over the edge of the sink.

  Leo’s eyes went wide at the naked vampire staring back at him, and November gave an airy snort. She might have been his age or younger, as far as the years on her body showed. The aging process ground to a halt for V-positives not long after they grew in their third set of cuspids, usually in their early twenties.

  She twitched him a smirk. Her fangs would be plain whether she wanted him to see them or not. Their mutual employer had all the neg guards taking Fortizan—job requirement. Her pheromones wouldn’t do shit. But GateSec didn’t need a security risk like hypnosis going around unchecked. That’s how problems got started.

  “You too, Tall, Dark and Nutritious.” She eyed him up and down. “Unless you want to try to get more blood out of that uniform later.”

  His mouth thinned into a flustered line, a not-unattractive byproduct of how little he’d thought out this offer of his, and he stripped off his uniform shirt. Then the blood-splattered white tank he wore under, off over the back of his neck in that pleasant-to-look-at way men had. November could have done far worse for a meal.

  Another knot of his features while he dropped the shirts on the floor, looking everywhere in the room but at her. The belt came next, and then muscled legs stepping out of boots, pants, and socks.

  November held back a hum of approval.

  Far worse.

  “Could you take that off?” She waved her fingers back and forth at the base of her own neck, to indicate a fine golden chain he wore around his. The liquid sunshine had been enough for one day. The last thing November needed was actual, solid gold branding her face while she ate.

  “Oh.” Leo’s hand went to the necklace. “Right.” He worked the clasp and laid it aside on the sink.

  There was no point in dragging it out. She stepped past him and into the tub. Braced her palm against the shower wall to lower herself down, to kneel in the wet basin, her back to the narrower wall. She turned her focus back to Leo Croix, expectant.

  “Um …” He took in the vampire waiting for him, indifferent to her own nudity, and shoved his palms down his thighs, lost. Vulnerable.

  Her stomach growled again, and November saw his eyes widen. Fuck it. If she was going to be stuck on the surface, of all the goddamn places, then she was going to eat this extremely attractive young man for dinner.

  “I have no way to guarantee I’ll be able to stay on my feet the whole time,” she said looking up at him. “And neither do you.”

  “What do you want me to do?” His voice had distilled down to much less confident tones. She could see his chest rise and fall. Saliva pooled under her tongue.

  “Sit down,” she said. “Between my knees. Face that way.” She tossed a hand at the opposite wall.

  And he did. Amazing. Credit where credit was due.

  The tub hadn’t been designed for that many limbs, and her knees pressed in tight to his hips. He had to sit with his legs butterflied apart, awkward, and he started when her belly and tight breasts curved down in contact with his back, his shoulders.

  Fuck me, so warm.

  “This would be a real bad time to panic,” she said, sliding lower so her mouth hovered over the crook of his neck.

  Leo inhaled and exhaled, deep. “I’m gonna try not to,” he said to the shower wall, an unconvinced lilt to his words.

  She almost felt bad. With hypnosis off the table, she couldn’t make the initial bite painless. The rush would kick in, after a point, but still …

  “Just don’t tense up.” Her advice fell quieter at his ear, more intimate than she’d intended, but it was probably a moot point, with her landing strip already scrubbing his tailbone.

  November took a loose hold of his shoulders, just above where they decided to become biceps. She could see the pulse at his throat, and her own heartbeat sped to match.

  This was rich people stuff. Live feeding. She’d only done it a couple times: the first a birthday gift from her mother, and then years later after she’d saved like a fiend. And those had been the kind of straight-laced, supervised sessions a person like her could afford in U-Seattle. There was no one here to watch her with Leo. No one to intercede on his behalf, if she lost her shit.

  And he smelled … expensive.

  “I can’t make this not hurt,” she said, unable to stop herself from nuzzlin
g his throat with her open mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  “I get it.” His voice was thick now. “Just … try not to kill me.”

  November couldn’t help a smile. “If I kill you, I’ll never be able to talk you into giving me seconds.” She wet her lips. “Leo.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hold still.”

  She bit down.

  “Oh, fuck!”

  There was no pulling out to shush him. Vampire fangs sank deep, and her fingers curled to grip muscle.

  “Oh my god, shit!”

  Don’t panic, idiot.

  Her donor growled against the pain, and November fed.

  Sweet fuck, did he taste good. Fresh compared to bloodmeal was sun-raised cane sugar after decades of that shit that came in packets. She had to calm down. Pace herself.

  His neck was cording; the instinct to fight her off a bear to keep in check, and November took a breath through her nose. Let it out. She relaxed her grip and let one arm slide around, high on his chest, the backs of her knuckles stroking the plane of flesh to soothe.

  She felt him try to relax, and he managed, to a degree, but November could still feel the tension in his jaw, high against her temple. The liquid, metallic heat of him was an overwhelming draw, coating her tongue, zinging past her taste buds, but she’d established a pilot bite now, and her gate partner needed reassurance.

  The vampire pulled back, nearly panting, and the moment she broke the seal, a red, wet track spilled down the gutter of a collarbone. It made a slow course past healthy muscle, a rare and fine display. Beautiful.

  “Leo.” She caught her breath.

  His response shuddered out of him. “Yeah?”

  “You’re doing great.”

  He exhaled, calming. Fists unclenching at his sides.

  “And you’re fucking delicious.”

  She fell back into it, fangs finding the same way they’d opened before.

  “Ngh! Christ!”

  Her arm around his shoulders was solid this time, and Leo’s head fell back. Under her fingertips, a nipple tightened, and a different sort of grunt vibrated into her right ear.

  Leonide Croix had hit the rush.

  Yessss.

  November let go and ate sloppy. She didn’t maintain a seal, and hot, vibrant life went streaking down the front of her entree. Her eyes fluttered open while she drank and the view over Leo’s shoulder was spectacular. A taste of every last thing the man was kept coming, flooding into her mouth, running a river down her throat. An aggressive itch at her ribs and thigh told November her wounds were closing. And between her new gate partner’s thighs, his cock was twitching to life.

  Don’t be selfish, Kitamura. Thank your host.

  She uncurled her circling arm, drawing from the tap at his neck all the while. The tracks of blood were too pretty to leave alone and, on her way, November smeared a palm to paint a slick, lateral streak. Visceral marks from her fingers dressing those core muscles that bunched under that sweetest of hurts.

  Her touch moved lower and Leo jerked.

  “Oh god.”

  November extracted herself enough from her meal to curve a suggestion—four fingers and a thumb—around the base of her partner’s prick. His own blood already matted half the dark hair curling there, the end of its wet course before it dripped between his cheeks to the basin and carved a vibrant path to the drain. She gave him the preview of a squeeze. A stroke. In return, she got a hiss and a groan.

  “Yeah?” November visited the bite with a pass of her tongue, not wanting to waste while she waited. He’d offered blood, not anything else.

  He nodded, urgent, head still thrown back on her shoulder. “Yeah.” The confirmation was a low breath, and his right hand moved to fold a grip around hers.

  November hummed, satisfied. “A little something for your donation, then.”

  She dragged a shameless lick up the side of his neck, and then dipped down to feed, again. With a hand on his cock and teeth in his flesh, the guard made conflicting sounds. The vampire consumed them all.

  He stood thick in her hand, upright and scalding hot. November let her fingers play, exploring the shape, the girth of him, even as she measured the sips she took at his throat. The glut was past, this was only enjoyment now.

  She turned her grip overhand and screwed it to the root of his shaft, twisting as she went to soak the side of her hand in the blood pooling here. To streak it up the length of him and slick the movements of her fist. The man shuddered, pleasure or revulsion or both, but his arm came up on the side where she drank. Fingers brushed beneath her hair to the back of her neck, pressing. Urging her to take.

  This far along, she’d police her own consumption. The neg wouldn’t know, this far into the rush, when he offered more than he should. But that didn’t stop her hand. Didn’t keep her from jerking him, slow, but her enthusiasm rose with the way his spine arched.

  “Fffuck. Yeah.”

  Leo was well along for the ride now, and November worked to keep up with the growing pace of his heart. With the sweet pulses filling her mouth. His quiet grunts and profanities, all involuntary, made her more aware still of her own thighs parted around his lower back. Of the way she slipped against his skin, and her breasts flattened into his bunching shoulders.

  She jacked him. Up and over the top. Thumb and fingers sliding and teasing all those sensitive places. Down to the base, squeezing, pulling. It was too many things to pay attention to at once. She lifted her face from the bite to breathe open-mouthed, chin soaked, to focus on Leo.

  Palm releasing him to go flat like a blade, November sluiced a path from his groin up, collecting the scarlet runoff. Drenched again, she took him in hand and pushed on with a sloppy zeal.

  Happy male noises came louder now. Grunts and chuffs. Audible breaths. Her other arm draped over his clean shoulder, palm splaying in the red mess of his bunching abs. His own hands had fallen to press at the shower wall now, and at the glass enclosure on the other side. In the flex of his lower back, the vampire felt the subtle pump of his hips, working. Straining.

  “You like this, Leo?” Her words bounced with the rhythm of her wrist. Steamed along the side of his neck. “Gonna come all over my hand?”

  “November, ffffuuuck.”

  So he had paid attention to her ID info. The vampire curled a smile he couldn’t see and treated him to more lavish strokes. He righted his head again to look down and watch, jaw slack. To see his cock, blood-smeared and heavy, slicking in and out of her fist. His left hand dropped into the fray, massaging and tugging his balls.

  “Oooh, yeah.” She dipped her hand down to meet his, painting his knuckles in a squeeze before rising again to jerk his dick. November had heard a rumor. Some donors, once they were well past the rush …

  “Want a little push, neg?” She hummed and buried her face in the bite. Latched on, hard, fangs deep, and drew from the tap.

  “Fuck!”

  His reaction was instant. November bit down, her goal pain over feeding this time, and narrowed the work of her hand. He writhed while she worried the sensitive head, her wrist and palm feverish while she locked him in searing place by the throat.

  “Oh shit. Shit!”

  Her gate partner came, the first shot impressive. The second and third splattering her knuckles, more lube to smear up and down his cock. Milk and claret marbling together, decadent and obscene. His mouth was wide open, and November wouldn’t let him quit until he was done.

  She took the last she dared from his throat, milking the length of him for the final, oozing drops. The growl and clench of him, fighting through a finish that could have been nothing like his GateSec training, had November all but purring satisfaction at the crook of his neck.

  While he caught his breath, and her strokes got lazy, the vampire extracted her teeth. Lapped up the spillage around her marks. The bleeding was minimal now, and she turned to her messy fingers, raising them up, cleaning them one by one, like a fork from an empty plate of desser
t. Metallic tang and male bitters, like nothing she’d ever tasted. Perfect.

  “God damn.” Leo dropped the words, one after the other like heavy boots, and November hummed, pleased.

  “Can you …” He tried to speak, and she felt his throat move, swallowing at the side of her face, where she still curved over him to suck clean a thumb. “You think you can stand?” he said.

  “Yeah.” She left him with a rude lick below his ear and shoved herself to her feet. Didn’t blame him for wanting her off, now that the rush would be fading. November leaned her shoulders against the shower wall, her own chest and belly striped red with more that had leaked down his back.

  But Leo was turning. Pivoting on a knee and not rising to push open the enclosure. He came to her that way, kneeling, and brought hands up to splay on the wall, on either side of her hips. Hazel eyes met hers, intense. He made a filthy display, and November would have the picture in her head until the day she gave up immortality.

  His focus shifted below her navel, and his knees bent, bringing him lower.

  “November,” he said, “let me.”

  Who was going to argue with that?

  She hooked an ankle around his lower back and raked newly-clean fingers through the short texture of his hair. It was all he needed.

  The guard ducked with open-mouthed kisses to her left hipbone. He smeared them across her belly, down to the line of fur cresting her mound, lapping, cleaning his own blood from her skin as he went.

  Damn, not squeamish at all.

  When he found her lips, his tongue squirmed out, parting her. Tasting.

  “Nnnffuck.” She slurred her words but kept watching. One of his supporting hands moved to curl around below her raised thigh and grip the muscle. He held her open. He ate.

  Leonide Croix was face-deep in her pussy. Twenty-four hours ago, a man she’d never heard of. Now she was drunk from his veins, fresh from jerking a load from his dick. Now he knelt and worshiped her cunt like it was the only point to existence.