CLAIMED BY THE ALPHA UNDERBOSS

by Candace Ayers

  “Of course,” replied Sasha, only a hint of regret in his voice. He had his arm around me and was absently stroking my bare back. “I painted that in 1729, in St Petersburg. Your name was Anna. You lived a long life with me, dying in your eighties. We had five children, twenty grandchildren, and more great grandchildren than I can remember.” He looked down at me and grinned widely at the memory.

  “You were a vampire? Why did you stay?” I whispered, still looking up into his eyes.

  “We were together nearly sixty years. Our love never faltered. Why did I stay? It was the happiest time of my existence. We both knew from the start that you would die and I would live on. We’d made our peace with it, but I always hoped…”

  “Hoped what?”

  “I transferred a little of my soul into this painting as I captured that moment. I knew you would be born again, that’s just the way things work, and I hoped that in time, the piece of me in this painting would find its way back to you. The dreams that you were having were our souls reconnecting. Those dreams called me to you, they let me know where you were. You may not remember, but I’ve been in your dreams since the painting came to your gallery.”

  “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” I giggled, punching him lightly in the stomach.

  “It’s been over two hundred years,” he smiled. “It was tough to work up the courage to talk to you after that long. But when you got into trouble last night I had to do something.”

  I laughed and threw my leg over him, sitting up to straddle his hips. I let the sheet fall away and watched his eyes travel over my breasts, down my stomach, and lower, to the soft skin between my thighs. That look of desire crept onto his face again and I felt his insatiable cock begin to grow hot and hard once more, nudging its way along the curve of my ass as he firmed up.

  “Two hundred years, huh?” I teased him, reaching back and delicately stroking the underside of his growing member. “And there’s been no one besides me?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he replied, then took in a sharp breath and closed his eyes as I wrapped my fist around the head of him. “But, yes, there’s been no one but you.”

  I stopped teasing him. “For real?” I almost squeaked.

  “I loved you. With all my heart. I still love you. I’ve always been in love with you,” he whispered, looking me right in the eyes. “I never wanted anyone else.”

  I was shocked. Elated, but shocked, and a little sad for the suffering he must have endured. Two centuries with no one? I couldn’t begin to imagine the loneliness, the heartache. From a purely primal point of view, I can go crazy after about six months without sex, never mind two hundred years without feeling another’s touch. I bent down and kissed him passionately. I never wanted him to go through anything like that again. If I had to kiss and make love to him every minute of every day, I would.

  “How did you survive?” I whispered breathlessly into his mouth when we finally came up for air.

  “I had my memories,” he replied softly, his hands caressing my breasts once more. I leaned into him and felt him twitch against my butt. The dull numbness and fatigue my poor, abused pussy was feeling disappeared, instantly replaced by a need to have him inside me again.

  “It still must have been… difficult,” I said, reaching back, placing the tip of him at my slick, waiting hole, then pushing down to have him slide up into me.

  “Time moves differently for a vampire…” he groaned as his long, hard rod penetrated the deepest parts of me. “If there’s nothing important in our lives, decades can pass like minutes.”

  I drew myself up on him, then slowly inched back down, each ridge and vein of him sending out tiny electric pulses that drew ecstatic gasps and soft moans from both of us. “What other myths are true about vampires?” I sighed, his cock slowly reaching in as deep as it could go.

  “Practically nothing,” he breathed. Enclosing him, totally filled by him, I squeezed with my velvet walls, sending shivers of pleasure through both of us.

  “You don’t explode in sunlight?” I asked, then bit my lip and closed my eyes as his teeth grazed my nipple.

  “If we did you wouldn’t find many of us in Texas,” his voice was muffled by my chest. “We just choose to work more at night. The darkness hides us better and there are fewer humans around.”

  “You’re not killed by a stake in the… heart?” I managed. There was a look of mischief on his face as he disrupted my sentence with a slight, unexpected thrust.

  “Of course,” he answered, “the same way you would be.”

  “Stop… playing with me,” I demanded, trying and failing to ignore his attempt to distract with small movements inside me. “Get me up to speed.” I took his wrists and pinned his arms above his head. He grinned, enjoying my assertiveness. I forced my hips down too, trapping him beneath me. It was a token move, of course. With his great strength he could probably have thrown me through the gallery wall with a wrist flick. He could do anything he chose to me, and I would be powerless to stop him. The thought sent a perverse shiver of excitement through me.

  “Or what?” he grinned up at me.

  “Or I’ll get off of you,” I laughed back.

  “You win,” he said. “I’m immortal. I won’t age or die. To sustain this immortality, I feed on human blood, which also happens to make me strong, fast, and difficult to hurt, but not invincible. It also heightens my senses: sight, sound, smell, all to help me hunt. I’m over 400 years old, so as vampire standards go, I’m pretty strong, but there are still many who are older and stronger. A few of us, myself included, like to restrict ourselves to hunting criminals; murderers, rapists, child molesters, assholes like that. We think of ourselves as ‘Robin Hoods’ to the human race. We take what we need from them, but in doing so, we also give back by ridding them of their own undesirables. Okay?”

  “What about the magic? The dreams and the warding and stuff?”

  “Tricks picked up through the centuries from wizards, necromancers, shaman, people like that. You don’t have to be a vampire to do those things. It’s just knowledge that’s been lost or forgotten over time. Take Valentina.”

  “Really?” I snorted. “You’re going to bring up your ex while you’re still inside me?”

  “My bad. But she knew we were getting hot and heavy in that dream. Magic. And the intensity of that passion made it easy for her to zero in on you, which meant she could also get to me.”

  “What about the sex we just had?” I was suddenly overtaken by fright. I slithered off him and scooted down beside him, pulling the sheet back over our nudity.

  “In the dream it was magic, here it’s just natural. Don’t take that personally,” he gave a weak smile. He sensed my fear and was trying to put me at ease with his somewhat feeble attempt at humor. “The warding won’t keep anyone out; it just makes us invisible to anyone using magic to search for us.”

  He sat up quickly. I was no expert, but he looked to me like a cat that suddenly heard a sound it didn’t like. “Of course,” he continued, almost to himself, “if a vampire were to just stroll by, the warding couldn’t stop him from hearing or smelling us, either.”

  He leaped up fast.

  “What is it?” I whispered, too scared even to appreciate his toned body in the half-light, naked and glistening with our mingled sweat and juices. He didn’t look at me. He seemed to be monitoring the air around us for any sound or smell out of place. Without warning, he took off toward one of the gallery’s east windows. An instant later, the window exploded in a shower of glass as another biker dove in through it.

  Without pausing, and so fast I could barely follow him, Sasha ran at the guy like a linebacker. He grabbed the biker’s head and kept running, twisting it off as he passed. The decapitated corpse dropped to its knees, spraying dark arterial blood across several important Expressionist works, then slumped to the ground lifeless.

  Sasha stopped by the smashed window, holding the head like a football. He turned, tossed it away, and
then charged back in my direction, moving in a blur of speed. Thinking the worst was over, a smile of relief crept slowly over my lips. That’s when I felt cold metal at my throat.

  “Stay very still, kitten,” I heard Valentina’s playful voice at the same time I smelled Miss Cherie.

  Sasha stopped five paces from us, frozen in his tracks. I squirmed but a sliver of sharp pain, followed by a trickle of warm blood running down my neck forced me to be still.

  “Hurt her and I’ll rip you into pieces,” Sasha snarled, his face contorted like a wild animal.

  “Hush, sexy,” I could hear the smile on Valentina’s lips. “You have more important things to worry about.”

  “Look out!” I screamed as a huge biker with long, stringy black hair appeared behind Sasha and clubbed him to the ground. Two more arrived, a man and a woman, and they started kicking Sasha’s prone body as Valentina hauled me backwards.

  I cried his name, tears running down my face, but the last thing I saw, before a bag was yanked over my head, was Sasha struggling, his panicked eyes watching me get dragged away. As they were beating him, he mouthed “I love you” to me. I didn’t get the chance to say it back.

  Chapter 8

  My hands were zip-tied behind my back and I was thrown into the back of a vehicle. A van, I would guess by the echo of the doors as they slammed and the cheap, cold vinyl flooring I landed on. I was still naked, aside from the hood over my head, and I should have been hysterical with fear but all I could think of was Sasha. The look on his face before the sack was thrown over my head. I needed him to be okay. I prayed he would find a way to survive.

  Lying face down on the floor of the van, my ass in the air, I felt soft fingers on the back of my neck. They stroked tantalizingly slowly down my spine and I wanted to retch in revulsion and fear.

  “I warned you, kitten,” Valentina’s mouth was suddenly right by my ear, which meant someone else was driving the van, “I warned you to stay away from my Sasha. Now, look what chaos you’ve caused.”

  “What are you going to do?” I spat from under the cover, trying to sound defiant.

  “Now, kitten, there’s a question,” She sounded amused and I’m pretty sure she licked her lips. “Let’s face it, I could do pretty much anything I wanted to you right now, which includes some things you might like and some things you definitely won’t.” Her fingers reached the base of my spine, paused, then tickled gently over the top of my ass. My body automatically tensed in defense. “For now, though, I’m afraid you’re more valuable alive, unmarked, unharmed,” she let out a sigh, “And no fun.”

  “In that case,” I ventured, as cocky as I dared, “can I get a jacket, or can you turn off the AC or something. I’m freezing.”

  Surprisingly, Valentina took off her leather jacket and draped it around me. She even sat me up against the van wall. I thought it best not to engage her too much, as simple questions like “Where’s Sasha?” and “Where are you taking me?” received more and more petulant replies. I believed her when she said I was valuable unharmed, but I also believed that she was insane and unpredictable and that too much pushing had the potential to seriously devalue me.

  We drove for hours. The hood let in just enough light for me to determine that night had fallen before the van finally stopped. I heard muffled voices outside, but little else until the back doors were flung open. My hood was yanked off and my senses bombarded. Rock music, shouting, roaring, laughing, motorcycle engines, glass breaking and at least one woman having really loud sex. I smelled meat roasting, fire burning, leather, gasoline, and trees. In the seconds it took for my eyes to adjust, I was tugged away by the arm.

  From what I could tell, I was in the middle of some stereotypical biker party. Something I’d only witnessed through the television. We were somewhere in the woods. There were bikes everywhere, a lot of mean looking guys and gals in denim and leather drinking beer, bonfires burning, barbecues cooking, but here and there were some things I’d never seen on TV. Or anywhere else.

  Over in the opposite corner from where I was heading, a blonde girl of about twenty-five was leaning forward on the back wheel of a big Harley trike. Her firm, perky breasts were exposed where she’d pulled down her tank-top and her tiny mini-skirt was hiked up to her waist. She was grunting out loud moans of pleasure as a bald, bearded, man-mountain fucked her relentlessly from behind.

  Not ten feet away from the occupied couple, I saw a scared kid, no more than twenty, thrown down by a tall, greasy haired biker chick. He tried to get back up, but she grabbed his shoulders, bent over and bit his neck. Thick blood spurted from him, splashing the ground, coating the biker chick’s face and drenching her t-shirt, but she kept her mouth on the wound as they both fell to the earth. My blood ran cold and I shuddered and had to look away.

  Had I just witnessed any of the things that were about to happen to me? I couldn’t think. I just silently repeated to myself, “Sasha is okay, Sasha is alive,” and concentrated on trying to hide how freaked out I was. Soon enough, we reach our apparent destination and stopped.

  Two males sat leaning against separate motorcycles in a small clearing of bikers, with four tall, burning torches marking a square around them. One had an enormous belly and arms like tree trunks, a bald head, and a long dirty-blonde beard. The red on black name badge sewn into the left breast of his vest read ‘Preacher’. He barely registered my approach. Instead, he was listening to a scrawny biker with black hair tied up in a hairband, who was kneeling in front of him whining some excuses.

  The male one was more in shape. His long dark hair was mostly covered by a red and gold bandana, and his tanned leather-like skin wrinkled dramatically around his eyes and mouth. He had a sexy young blonde sitting on his knee, who seemed pretty uninterested in her surroundings, but he didn’t take his steely-gray eyes off me from the moment I came into view. The badge on his vest said ‘Bernhard’.

  Preacher held up one giant, meat hook of a hand and the scrawny guy stopped bleating. “You, Ratchet, know the rules,” came Preacher’s voice. His laconic delivery had all the urgency of an iceberg. “You steal a brother’s kill, that brother decides your punishment. He also gotta keep in mind it’s your third time getting in trouble for this particular offense. What you say, Idaho?”

  A tall, broad-shouldered biker standing by the torch nearest Ratchet looked up. “End him,” he said firmly.

  Preacher searched the crowd, a smile widening on his face when he spotted Valentina. “Val, honey…” he began. I felt Valentina stiffen behind me.

  “Perhaps,” interrupted Bernhard, finally moving his fierce eyes from me to Preacher, “this being a celebratory evening and all, we maybe shouldn’t be ending brothers tonight?” He kept his expression even as he spoke.

  I saw a flicker of anger in Preacher’s eyes before he said, smiling, “Appreciate the sentiment, good buddy, but Hogs will deal with Hog business, Dogs with Dog business.” I had no idea what that meant, until I saw the patch on Ratchet’s back said ‘Hell’s Hogs’. There was clearly no love lost between the two leaders. They were being cordial, but the tension was high.

  “Understood, brother,” offered Bernhard, looking back to me. His staring was making me really uncomfortable, not the least because Valentina’s jacket on my shoulders totally failed at hiding any of my lady bits. Still, it was my face he focused on.

  “Val,” repeated Preacher. Valentina seemed to click to attention like a Gestapo officer. She handed me off to someone I couldn’t see, then moved, catlike, over to where Ratchet was still kneeling. She stood just behind Ratchet before, suddenly, a look of pure glee appeared on her face. She pulled his head back, punched her fist into his chest, and pulled out his heart, almost too fast for me to see.

  There were some uncomfortable noises, a couple of groans, and a few cheers, before Ratchet’s lifeless body collapsed. Still wearing her certifiably-insane smile, Valentina looked at the heart in her bloody hand. It beat once, despite the torn tubes and ripped flesh hangin
g from it. She put one of the ventricles to her lips and, like a soda straw, took a long pull on it.

  Her face turned sour and she tossed the heart over her shoulder, before hacking and coughing. “Ugh, he was foul,” she spat. “I did him a favor.”

  Preacher laughed and tapped on his knee, beckoning her to sit down.

  “Did you get her alright, baby-doll?” he asked. She smiled like a little kid with her favorite uncle and gestured my captor to bring me forward.

  “What’s this?” Bernhard sounded nearly angry. “We don’t treat honored guest this way.” He got up, forcing the blonde off him, and moved behind me. I was shaking. He lifted the jacket off my shoulders. I heard what I assumed was a switchblade open, then my heart leaped into my mouth as he cut the zip-tie binding my wrists.

  “Is that the best idea?” inquired Preacher.

  “She can run or fight if she wants to,” Bernhard replied. “Regardless, she won’t get far.” Unexpectedly, he held out the jacket for me to put on properly. I zipped it up, feeling grateful to be finally semi-covered again. Okay, so I was still only a low branch away from flashing everyone my business, but it was an improvement.

  “So, this here’s the little human that stole your boy away from my beautiful girl,” Preacher made it a statement, not a question. “Speaking of boys, where is the groom, so we can get his started?”

  “Right here!” my heart jumped for joy in my chest and my knees went weak at the sound of his voice but, as I turned to see Sasha push his way through the crowd, I cringed at the horrible bruises on his face. He was also carrying his arm painfully. Then it hit me what had just been said.

  Sasha was here as the groom.