Bitten Beauty (Book 3 Of the Deadly Beauties Live On)

by C. M. Owens

  Table of Contents

  LOST BEAUTY sneak peek.

  Lost Beauty

  BITTEN BEAUTY

  The Deadly Beauties Live On

  Copyright 2015 by C.M. Owens

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without express written permission of the author. This eBook is licensed for your enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  The story in this book is the property of the author, in all media both physical and digital. No one, except the owner of this property, may reproduce, copy or publish in any medium any individual story or part of this novel without the expressed permission of the author of this work.

  LOST BEAUTY sneak peek.

  Playlist for Bitten Beauty:

  Aquarius – Digital Daggers

  Couldn’t Stop Caring – The Spiritual Machines

  Weak – Seether

  Seven Nation Army – The White Stripes

  Whore – In This Moment

  I Get Off – Halestorm

  Centuries – Fall Out Boy

  Face Everything and Rise – Papa Roach

  Freak Like Me – Halestorm

  Radioactive – Imagine Dragons

  Dangerous – Shaman’s Harvest

  Porn Star Dancing – My Darkest Days

  Shatter Me – Lindsey Stirling Ft. Lzzy Hale

  Amen – Halestorm

  Back In Black – AC/DC

  E.T. – Katy Perry

  Dark Horse – Katy Perry

  The Bad Touch – Bloodhound Gang

  Chapter 1

  LEAH

  “I’m not sure about this,” I say warily.

  I’m starting to regret ever agreeing to feed Marilyn’s delusion.

  “It’s just a club,” she says too casually.

  My eyes flit around the room at all the people who are engaged in lusty role play. There are large, black and red velvety couches and chairs everywhere. The low lights cast a hazy glow on all the writhing bodies that might as well be moving things to a bedroom.

  I swallow hard when I see them actually drinking from each other. Their fake fangs dig into the soft flesh, and blood spills in trickles. They lap it up, making sounds akin to pleasure as opposed to disgust.

  I’m going to be sick.

  “This is not just a club,” I hiss.

  She swats a dismissive hand as though she feels I’m overreacting. I’m not. At all.

  I’ve had to do a lot of weird things with her in the past, but this tops the crazy charts. I didn’t realize being her assistant would be such a hands-on job. Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m being the friend or the employee.

  “Fine. It’s a vampire role playing club. I need this for research. It’s important that I become completely submersed in their world—no matter how far-fetched and ludicrous it might sound.”

  At least she still admits this is all absurd. Sometimes I wonder if she has crossed the line of researcher into believer, and if she has truly detached herself from reality. All these mythological research missions turned into occult research missions a while back.

  I appreciate the fact she’s a very thorough researcher—for her nonfiction pieces on underground clubs and secret societies—but I’m not keen on being involved with said research.

  I’m a logical person most days, so it’s hard to engage and try to get inside their heads.

  This is her obsession and her publishing deal, not mine. When I signed up for the job, I expected to be making phone calls and scheduling appointments for her.

  I never thought I’d be standing here in a short leather skirt and a barely-there scrap of a red shirt that shows all of my back and most of my stomach. High heels and I do not get along very well, either, but I’m frigging wearing them. Maybe we should discuss proper work attire.

  “You don’t really plan to let someone… do that, do you?” I ask, my stomach churning as I motion to a girl who is lying across a man’s lap as he sucks blood from her wrist.

  She turns to me with patented determination in her eyes. She’s definitely going to do it.

  “I can’t write about something I haven’t ever truly experienced. It’ll be like I’m writing a lie. And I don’t write fiction.” She glances around the room, and I swear she looks a little excited. “Besides, it can’t be that bad. You have to admit that it’s seductive.”

  “My brain is still firmly attached to reality, so no; I don’t find it seductive.”

  I look over just as a girl bows her body into the arms of a man, arching her chest against him as he sucks from her neck. Her moans reach us even over the low beat of the scandalous music, and I find myself squirming. Okay… Maybe it’s a little seductive.

  “Look at how free they all seem. It’s as though they have no inhibitions,” Marilyn points out, turning her eyes back to the room. “And I had to work really damn hard to get an invitation here. It’s not like there’s a fat sign on the door—hence the underground club title. I had to lie to people and bribe them left and right, because this place is very exclusive. Now make yourself useful and chat up some wannabe vampires.”

  She struts off, leaving me on my own, and I sigh while slowly walking around the room, taking in the scenery. Oh damn. Is his hand really up her dress and moving in front of everyone?

  I cut my eyes away from the latest naughty couple, and head straight for the bar. I definitely need a drink if I’m really going to stay here.

  When I finish placing my order, I start looking around once again. But my eyes freeze on one sight that I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from.

  There’s a guy sitting in a chair in the corner with a girl sitting on the floor between his legs. She’s talking to another couple on the sofa next to them, but the guy’s eyes are trained on me as he studies me very intently. And I can’t seem to stop staring back.

  He’s wearing a black, sleeveless shirt that hugs the lines of muscle on his long, lean body, and he’s holding his chin with a hand that has black painted nails. Gothic has never been my thing, but he wears it like a pro—a sexy, ungodly gorgeous pro.

  Long, intricately detailed lines of ink run the full lengths of his arms, looking so good against the tanned skin of his body. His inky black hair is styled in a short faux-hawk with dark blue tips that I can see from here.

  He’s everything I’ve never been attracted to, but now I can’t stop looking at him as though he’s exactly what I’ve always wanted.

  Two black leather cuffs are on his wrists, and his black combat boots stick out from the bottoms of his dark denim jeans. In real life, he’s probably an accountant or something. But this is role play, so he can be dark and mysterious here.

  His steady gaze doesn’t waver, and I feel heat in all the wrong places as he starts absently strumming one of his long fingers over the crease of his lips. It takes more effort than it should, but I finally manage to break eye contact. It helps that the girl between his legs has now gotten up onto her knees and is slipping her hands under his shirt.

  Don’t look back, Leah.

  “Another one,” I tell the bartender once I gulp down my martini.

  As he slides a new glass in front of me, a body is suddenly pressed against my back, and I go tense all over. Shit.

  “They don’t usually let virgins in here,” a deep, sexy voice says too close to my ear, his breath fanning my face and leaving me with unbidden chills.

  “I’m not a virgin. Not since high school,” I blurt out, silently cursing my broken filter.

 
Did I really just frigging say that?

  A low chuckle emanates from his chest and vibrates against my back. I can’t blame him for laughing. If I wasn’t utterly mortified with the stupid confession I just made, I’d laugh at myself.

  My eyes finally rise up to the wide mirror in front of me, and my breath catches in my throat. Despite the numerous liquor bottles that hinder the vision of the reflection, I can see him clearly. It’s him—the guy I was pretty much openly drooling over.

  His hands slide down my sides, igniting a fiery trail as tingles course through me, and I essentially quit breathing. He really shouldn’t be so damn sexy.

  “I’m sure you’re not a virgin in that way,” he says, the smile on his face matching the smile in his voice. “I was referring to the fact you’re a first-timer—never bitten. This club is full of seasoned players.”

  Swallowing hard, I ignore the glowing red stain that is heating my cheeks. “Oh,” I say lamely. “I’m not. I do this all the time.”

  His smile only grows. “If that were so, you wouldn’t have turned into stone the second I got close. Right now, you could be snapped with the slightest movement.”

  His hands venture down farther, sliding onto my thighs as he presses completely against my back, and then his eyes meet mine in the mirror. Damn. Those are some seriously blue eyes.

  “Don’t say anything,” I murmur pathetically. “I don’t want to get my friend kicked out.”

  “The girl researching the place?” he asks, amused. He’s been paying too much attention. How does he know about Marilyn?

  Instead of asking questions, I just nod in response to his query.

  “And what do you think about all of… this?” he asks softly, his hands sliding back up to my waist, moving against the bare skin that I’ve left abundantly exposed.

  “I think… it’s seductive,” I stammer, my voice breaking on the words.

  His touch is like fire that is heating everything inside of me while simultaneously igniting small sparks of electricity in me as well. And his too-blue eyes are still fully trained on mine, holding me captive in the mirror as though I’m his to claim.

  “Not yet,” he murmurs.

  “Huh?” is all I manage to squeak out in my confusion.

  “I said not yet,” he repeats, but I’m still confused. “You don’t find it seductive yet.”

  His grin changes from amusement to something else—something dark and daring—and I think I shiver. It’s hard to tell what my body is doing right now.

  He bites his bottom lip before leaning down and inhaling against my dark brown hair that carries a subtle tint of red. His hands continue to move across the pieces of my bare flesh, and he nips my earlobe, causing me to jump. I can’t see his fake fangs, but I know they’re there somewhere.

  “Easy, baby,” he says, grinning again. “I’m not going to draw blood.”

  His tone is mocking, and his eyes open up to meet mine once again in the mirror. Those have to be contacts. They’re a glowing blue that can’t be natural.

  “When you walked in, you were shocked and somewhat repulsed,” he tells me, nibbling my earlobe once again. “Then you became curious.” He slides his hand up my stomach, and my heart sputters when he moves up even higher and traces the line of my cleavage. It takes all my strength not to swat his hand away.

  “After curiosity came a deeper intrigue, especially when you saw me.” He holds my gaze fearlessly in the reflection, daring me to try and say otherwise. I don’t bother, because my gawking earlier left me transparent, apparently.

  “Now you’re scared, but fascinated,” he tells me, brushing my hair away from my neck as he starts swaying me to the music.

  I want off this stool and in his arms. It almost feels like I’m drunk right now. How the hell strong were those drinks?

  “Your body is feeling things your mind is chastising you for, and you’re restrained by your everyday sets of morals and logic. You want to be as free as the others, but you pride yourself on being… more grounded, we’ll say. But in my arms, you’ve almost forgotten that you’re not one of them.”

  He pulls me closer, and my head tips back against his chest. I don’t even feel like me right now. It’s as though there’s a spell in the air, and I’m stuck in his thrall. It’s scary how accurate he is.

  “You’ve almost resigned yourself to submitting, because now you actually want this. Even though you found it laughable moments ago, you find yourself wishing I’d just do it so you can see what it’s like.”

  His lips brush the side of my head, and his hands venture back down, sliding over my breasts without any restrictions or hesitation. Then they work their way back up until he’s gently holding my neck.

  “It would take very little for me to convince you to lie down and let me take you in ways you’re too shy to even fantasize about, and you’d be addicted after just one time. Your mind would open to avenues you’ve never thought you wanted to explore, and you’d be desperate for more. All you’d have to do is fully submit—offer yourself to me without limitations—and your entire life would spin on a different axis.”

  He takes his time, not making any sudden movements as he gingerly strokes the length of my neck, and then he continues.

  “You want to know if it hurts, but you see them aroused, so your mind is trying to sift through the contradicting variables. There’s pain, but there’s more pleasure than anything else. It’s euphoric—a high unlike any other. It’s something wrong in the eyes of many, silly in the eyes of most, but intoxicating to the eyes of everyone willing to submit.”

  My breaths become erratic and painful as my heart pounds fiercely. He moves closer to my neck, sliding his lips down my jaw, and I tilt my head without reservation. When his lips touch the skin of my throat, I moan as though he has just done something much more intimate.

  But then he merely kisses it, sucking it lightly, and withdraws as my whole body thunders and pleads for more. Why did he stop?

  He looks into the mirror as his hands drop from my body, and he smirks. “Now you know what seductive really is. Too bad I don’t play with virgins. This was fun.”

  He just completely and totally toyed with me. Now I feel like an idiot.

  He turns to walk away, and I scowl at his back. “I think I at least deserve a name after that.”

  Yeah, it’s pathetic, but I want to know his damn name. Then I can look him up and find out that he’s really a boring accountant who has blood pressure medicine in his cabinets at home. It’ll help release me from this… whatever it is that he’s left me with.

  His eyes meet mine over his shoulder, and he holds that cocky grin in place.

  “It’s Zee.” With that, he disappears into the shuffle of the crowd, and I lean back. That’s not much of a name to go on, but I doubt many people in this town have that name. While Marilyn is working on her book, I’ll do some research of my own.

  Screw that. I’m not letting him inside my head. He’s just a guy wearing fake fangs and playing a game for the twisted.

  I stand up and move through the bodies that are now writhing to the music on the makeshift dance floor. It doesn’t take me but a moment to find him, because he has a girl already wrapped around him. The second his eyes meet mine, he releases his newest toy and comes directly to me, tugging me against him as the music guides his rhythm.

  “Couldn’t stay away? That’s why I don’t mess with virgins,” he says with that cheeky smile in place.

  “Why?” I manage to ask, wondering why in the hell I’m desperate to do something that had my skin crawling when I walked in.

  His glowing blue eyes darken fractionally, and his look… He could stop the world from turning with that look. I’m fairly sure my entire body is burning up from the inside because of the intensity of his gaze. My head is tilted back, because he’s so tall that I can’t see his face without doing so. And I feel like he’s completely possessing my body with his movements, controlling me without trying.

 
“You’ll start comparing everyone to me if I give you what you want.” He cups my chin with one hand while keeping his other hand at the small of my back. “You’ll seek that same feeling. You’ll be like a drug addict searching for that first high once again. But you won’t find it.”

  I narrow my eyes on him. “So you’re saying no because you’re so full of yourself that you think a night with you will make me a junkie?”

  He smirks, still studying me. I should be recoiling, but I can’t seem to make myself walk away.

  “I’m saying no because one night with me would ruin you.”

  He acts as though we’re talking about sex. I was just… What the hell am I doing? Am I really begging him to bite me? Oh, it sounds ridiculous even in my mind.

  Apparently sanity has been eclipsed by sick desire. I blame the heady, confusing atmosphere in this place. It’s toxic or something.

  This is a one-way ticket to group therapy. Hi, my name is Leah, and I’ve recently discovered that I’m insane because I begged a fake vampire to suck real blood out of my neck after knowing him for five minutes.

  Yep. I’ve joined the crazy train. Time to hop off before I cross the line of insanity.

  Deciding not to admit how corrupted my mind has gotten in such a minimal amount of time, I cock an eyebrow, feigning boredom now.

  “Egos aren’t my thing. I’ll let you find someone else to stroke yours for you. No offense, but you’re not as great as you think you are.”

  His lips twitch, but my breath catches in my throat when he tugs me closer, still moving me to the music. My arms dangle loosely at my sides, and my eyes stay locked with his. I’m going to have one hell of a crick in my neck.

  “You have no idea how great I am. I’m trying to do you a favor, and you’re getting pissed. Seeing all the anger in your eyes from my rejection is stroking my ego just fine.”

  Of all the arrogant, narcisstic—

  “But you really should go,” he says, cutting my thoughts off when he leans down and flicks his tongue against my neck.

  Swallowing, breathing, and thinking all become a little harder to do. I guess I’m not even hearing him correctly, because I swear he said I should go, but he’s holding onto me like he won’t let me leave.