Bite Me: A Vampire Anthology

by Cain, Addison

  “I know it’s hard for you to understand, to accept, but I promise you’re safe.” He still sounded so sinfully good to her ears, and it even sounded honest, but the danger bells were loud in her brain, and she was going to listen to them this time.

  “Stay away from me,” she said, perhaps a little too loudly for the space they were in, but he didn’t pause. Not even when she held out her hand, pointed at him, and shouted, “Stop!”

  “This is only upsetting you, Grace. Let me make you feel better.” He held his arms open like he wanted a hug. A vampire hug.

  Hell no.

  Kicking off her sandals, she circled the end of the table and ran up the side he wasn’t on, bolting across the immaculate wood floors, but just as she made it into the living room, she felt his hand land on the back of her neck.

  Instant stillness.

  Calm washed over her, contrasting her racing heart and the rapid breaths still pistoning in her lungs. His grip wasn’t even hard, he was barely touching her, but she couldn’t move as he stepped around to her front. He smelled incredible, looked amazing, but there was no denying the icy fear leaking down her spine.

  “Please,” she whispered, unsure what she was even asking him for. To let her go? Not bite her? Pretend she’d never said the word vampire and go back to assuming he was a stalker-wizard?

  All of the above. That’s what she wanted, all of the fucking above.

  “Grace… come now. If I were going to harm you, wouldn’t I have done it before now? Haven’t I had plenty of opportunities?” There he was being reasonable again. The Reasonable Vampire. That sounded like one weird ass children’s book, and it was definitely not helpful.

  “Let me go,” she whispered, unable to be any louder even though she tried.

  “Will you behave?” he asked, his voice edged with some kind of authoritarian overtone that still managed to make her wet through the fear. Fucking libido. Chill out.

  Since her choices were between being frozen in place, or saying yes, she nodded. One crisp dip of her chin, and suddenly, she could move, but he just switched his hold to her hand, interlacing their fingers.

  “I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he purred, that rumbly thing happening in his voice again as he invaded her personal space and leaned down to nose her hair. “Even though it does make you smell absolutely amazing.”

  “I want to see your teeth,” she said on a rush, desperate to have some space, and he stood upright again, chuckling.

  “You do astound me, Grace.” Then he smiled. Not a smirk, or one of his close-mouthed grins, or one of those lop-sided smiles he’d been sporting since she’d met him that morning — but a full-watt, absolutely gorgeous smile. Complete with two very pointy canines.

  Fuckityfuck.

  “Well?” he asked as his tongue traced the tip of one of those dangerous teeth. “What do you think?”

  “I think vampires aren’t real,” she whispered, and he laughed, loud and warm, his hand squeezing hers as he leaned in close and cupped her cheek.

  “You are delightful. I can tell you’re terrified, but you’re still funny. Witty.” His lips brushed hers, and she felt that swoon-effect overcoming her, the same thing that had made her melt against him in the bathroom. With more effort than it should have taken, she turned out of the kiss.

  “Stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?” he asked, feigning innocence, and she growled.

  “Making me feel… stuff… for you. I don’t want you. I’m saying that out loud, to you, and no means no.” Grace felt stupid saying it, but she also had zero idea what else she could do. Outrunning him was a stupid idea, she wasn’t anywhere near as strong as him, and considering he had actual magical powers… her options were limited. Words were about the only weapon she had, but the pen was definitely not mightier than the sexy vampire.

  “You’re saying no,” he said softly as he turned her, pulling her back to his front before he pushed her own fingers between her legs. “But you’re aroused, Grace. It perfumes the air around you, makes my own body respond.”

  She whined through clenched teeth as his hard cock pressed against her ass at the same time he manipulated her hand, using it to rub her clit through her slacks and underwear. The layers of cloth between them didn’t mean anything. She could feel every stroke of his fingers moving hers. Stuck, trapped, and she hung there, pinned against him as pleasure began to weave through her nerves. It was dull, a low, buzzing warmth in her veins, but it still made her whine through her teeth because he. wasn’t. stopping.

  “We’re meant to be, you and I. Every one of my kind has a plehara, one mortal destined for them. So many of us never find ours, but finding you was a necessity for me.” Nic bent his head to nuzzle against her throat, making her tense with each kiss he brushed down her neck. “You set me free, Grace, and for that, I would never truly harm you.”

  “Set you free?” she asked on a squeak, fighting the urge to moan as his other hand came around to the front to work at the clasp on her pants, gliding the zipper down so that with a flick the pants fell to the floor.

  Dammit. You are not doing well, Grace.

  “Yes, free. And I was cursed for so long I began to wonder if I would ever find you, in any lifetime.” He tugged her backward, moving her with him as he continued to use her hand to rub her clit. Still, it was having an effect.

  She was slick between her thighs, soaking straight through her underwear until she could feel it against her fingers.

  “I want to watch you.”

  “Watch?” she repeated, unable to come up with independent thought as he sat down and pulled her into his lap. Without answering, he released her hand to drape her legs over his, and then he spread them, forcing her legs wide. When she tried to move, to close them, he laid his hands on her knees and held her there.

  Definitely not good.

  “Go on, show me how you like to touch yourself,” he whispered, right against her ear, and the sweet rumble of it made her core clench around nothing.

  Oh, shit, he wanted to watch her? Fuck. Taking a shuddering breath, she shook her head.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Feeling shy?” he asked, nuzzling against her neck, nipping, and she felt that dizzying sensation sweep through her again, carrying with it a hundred tiny torches destined to set her whole body on fire.

  “Wait, wait, stop,” she babbled, but it was a useless attempt as his hands inched up her thighs, one of them tugging her underwear to the side as the other guided her fingers back down. Down where she was already so wet, desperate, and the last thing she wanted to do was feed that fire.

  “You weren’t shy when you were working to free me,” he whispered against her throat. Another nip that stung just enough for her to flinch. “You begged for it, demanded satisfaction.”

  Nic slid two of her fingers inside, guided by his, and she arched on his lap, unable to suppress the gasp as one of his digits followed hers in. He was surprisingly warm for a vampire, and that thought drew her attention away from the way he left her fingers to draw his own back to her clit. Zing. Sudden ecstasy ripped the air out of her lungs on a gasp and she felt another sting at her neck, but it was lost in the chaotic storm playing out under her skin. He groaned, hips grinding his hard cock against her ass, and all she wanted to do was have him inside her. Everything else was a tease, every touch — no matter how incredible — was nothing compared to what it would feel like to fuck him. To have him slide deep, to have him buried to the hilt as she cried out and begged for more.

  “Please,” she begged, delirious, and he released her. Left her fingers thrusting until she stopped that as the pleasure hangover dulled and then faded. “What… what did you do to me?” she panted.

  “Just gave you a taste of what I can give you,” he purred, laving his tongue over her neck in a way that sent chills down her spine. The good kind… or at least it felt good even if it was very wrong. Very bad.

  Bad Grace, stop it.

/>   “I said no,” she reiterated, trying to find a way to clear thoughts through the mess her head had become.

  “I know,” he said with a soft chuckle. “However, you broke my curse, so you are my plehara, and that means I’ll just have to work a little harder to convince you.”

  “You were cursed?” she asked, surprised for a moment until she realized where she was and what the fuck he was doing. Once she was able to process that, she wasn’t surprised at all. Still, she was curious. “Why?”

  He ran kisses across her shoulder before trailing them back up her throat to nip at her earlobe. His next low laugh was right in her ear and infuriatingly sexy. “You know, when you're young you do foolish things. Sure, I slaughtered a few villages before I got my hunger under control, but the mortals really over-reacted to that spree in the 16th century. Spain was always a bit religious.”

  “Slaughtered?” she squeaked, muscles going tense, but he ran his hands down her thighs in a soothing pet that actually calmed her… somewhat. But it was fake, and part of her brain knew that. Knew that he was forcing that on her, just like he was forcing himself on her.

  “Bloodlust. It’s an early weakness, but one that is overcome through time. A regular food supply would have prevented it as well… but it was not as easy to hunt in those days.” His tongue traced her throat again, and she wanted to feel disgust, but instead she found her hips grinding the air, her fingers seeking out her clit again. “But in a city like this? It would be so much easier. So simple to take a sip from several mortals without any of them noticing.”

  “Great,” she breathed, trying not to pant, to moan. “Then you don’t need me.”

  “Oh, no… I need you very much.” Nic caught her chin and turned her head to meet his lips. From the first moment of the kiss, she was lost, drowning, writhing in his grip as his hand took control between her thighs and sent her spiraling.

  A very small voice in her head wanted to say no, wanted to stop him, but it was useless, and it felt so good. Everything felt incredible, wonderful, and he tasted like charred candy.

  Like some kind of sweet ruin.

  Chapter 8

  Nicomachus

  It was a great testament to his self-control that he didn’t bite her, didn’t lose focus on the little button under his fingers as she writhed in his lap. Moaned and gasped, arched, craned her head to the side until he could see the little thumping pulse under her skin.

  Just a lean down, a puncture of teeth away from absolute bliss. From completely taking her.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead, he wiped away her fear, brushed away her concern, and fed her arousal. Let it ramp up the very natural need that had her wet before he’d ever done more than kiss her, touch her. They were meant to be, and this would have been all the proof he needed even if he didn’t remember her during the ritual.

  His cock strained in his pants, wedged under her wiggling ass, completely tormented by every twist and wriggle. Still, it was worth it. Every minute of it.

  “You’re such a good girl,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple, well away from her neck, and she whined in the sweetest way. All her arguing and it had taken the barest nudge to have her falling apart in his arms.

  “Please,” she whispered breathily, her hand landing on top of his where he rubbed her clit, and he focused on her arousal, fed it more, thrust his hips against her ass and groaned just as she cried out. Body contracting, curling in for a moment, before she shuddered, a loud gasp ripping air into her lungs so she could moan again. It was glorious.

  She was perfect.

  And if he didn’t get inside her soon, he was going to do something very violent.

  Lifting her in his arms was as easy as standing. To one as old as he, she was light as a feather, and although his cock made it an interesting walk, he knew exactly where he was headed.

  The master suite had a massive bed — four posts and an old-fashioned canopy with actual drapes, crimson and thick. Handy for blocking out the sun if the blackout blinds ever failed. Just as he climbed on and laid her out on the bed, he felt his body shift. A strange ripple in his skin, but he took a slow breath and forced it back.

  No.

  “Grace, open your eyes,” he said above her, although it was more of a growl. She wasn’t the only one feeling needy. Her eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened. Cornflower blue irises around pupils dilated past the point of simple arousal. She was lost in the haze of it.

  Perhaps… he’d been a little pushier than he thought.

  Still, in this state, she would at least listen. Not be ruled by her fear, by her all-too-mortal panic. He caught her rolling hips and pressed her back to the bed.

  “Listen to me, plehara.”

  “Hmm?” she murmured, smiling up at him with an expression he could only describe as ‘cute.’ “That felt wonderful.”

  “I’m not done yet, beautiful.” Unable to resist, he leaned down and nipped her hip, feeling her jolt as his teeth scratched a pair of needle-fine lines. Laving his tongue over the mark, he moaned against her skin, salivated, felt the beast humming under his flesh. He pulled himself back in time to shake it off. “I want to bring you more pleasure. Do you want that?”

  She nodded, a lot, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. So much for her arguments.

  Hooking his fingers into her underwear, he pulled them down her legs, tossing them as soon as they cleared her lilac-painted toes. Grace immediately spread her knees in front of him, a sinful sight, still bound in that turquoise-colored top that made the blush in her cheeks seem brazen, and the blue of her eyes glow. Unable to be gentle, he pulled her up, ripping the fabric in his hands as he pulled it over her head. It was ruined long before her light brown hair cleared the neckline. Another layer stood in his way, and the growl he released must have been warning enough because Grace grinned as she reached behind her, and then the bra was gone, off the side of the bed, and all he could see was her milky skin. Arms more dusted with freckles than her chest, but there was an errant one here and there. They called to him, wanted him to nip, lick, taste every inch of her.

  And that was exactly what he planned to do.

  “You’re mine,” he said, but it came out low, guttural, his other side leaking through as he pushed her back to the bed and gripped her thighs. He looked down and noticed he was still wearing clothes, the suit jacket pulled taut across his shoulders as he tried to bend. He ripped it off, and once he was free of that, he wanted the rest of it gone.

  Abandoning her for a moment, he broke every button on the shirt, snapping threads sending little circles of plastic flying as he ruined it — not that it mattered. He had more clothes in the closet, more money than he knew what to do with in this modern world. The pants he shucked more easily, along with the boxers, and then with a kick of shoes and socks he was finally free. Naked again. Just as he’d been when he’d surprised her at her place of work.

  This time he didn’t bother speaking, he simply climbed onto the bed, directly between her thighs, hands holding her wide so he could breathe her in, lean down, and taste her.

  Incredible.

  Grace’s blood was ambrosia, but the liquid between her thighs was its cousin. He moaned almost as loudly as she did when he split her with his tongue, dragging it upward to the hard little nub where her pleasure was born. Focusing on it brought her thighs against his ears, and he grinned as he forced them wide again, delighting in the sounds she made as he tormented her without having to stoke her arousal with any of his gifts… beyond the dexterity of his own tongue.

  He’d watched the way she rubbed herself when she was lost in the haze, paid attention to how her body twitched and rolled with each new rhythm and pressure — and he’d always been a quick learner. Putting that knowledge to work was easy, and the rewards? Glorious.

  She arched off the bed, alternating between fisting her hair, the pillows above her, the sheet, and then his hair. Her fingers twisted in his short hair, tightened, and pulled. Sharp sti
ngs raced over his scalp, and he growled at her in warning… and she growled back. A needy, wanton sound that had his balls aching as he attacked her clit with purpose. It wasn’t a moment later that she released him, falling back to the bed to cry out, gasp. He propped himself up so that he could glide two fingers inside her, meeting that pleasurable place from the inside, he assaulted her with more. Liquid heat seeped around his fingers, leaking down to form a steadily growing damp place under her ass as she rocked — reaching for his mouth with her hips, begging in broken pleas, half-formed whispers, and shouted cries.

  If he had dreamt a thousand dreams inside his cursed prison, he would have never imagined himself so lucky. To have a woman so incredible bound to him, to be freed by one so fiery, so breathtaking, so perfect.

  Grace Alexandra Corbin was his plehara. The woman who had survived the ritual for him. Brought him out of the empty black of his prison, and for that, he would raze cities for her. Destroy for her. Anything she asked, any wish she could imagine — and he wanted her to know it. Just as he swore the oath in his own mind, she fell apart in his hands, her body arching, the sweetest cry leaving her lips as he continued stroking her with his tongue. Tasting each incredible drop she spilled as she came.

  As he sat up, he felt his skin ripple again, the hunger gnawing at him, demanding more, but he was stronger than that part of himself now. He was not some mindless beast, some villain of the dark night, a nightmare of the wilderness.

  No, he was in control, and right now, all he wanted to do was watch Grace tremble.

  She was still moaning softly, writhing on the bed under him as he braced his hands beside her hips to watch the way her thighs twitched, her hips swishing side to side and up and down. Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, she bit down and groaned, back arching again as her muscles tensed, and then she laid back, sighing as bleary blue eyes opened on him.