Professor Blood (Ironwrought Book 2)

by Anna Wineheart

  The professor shook his head, smirking. “I covered it earlier in the lecture. Perhaps you should be punctual next time.”

  Blood surged through Brandon’s cheeks. You knew I just got here. Fuck you.

  Quinn smiled, turning away. In that moment, Brandon wanted to pin him down, punch him, or fuck him until he lost that arrogant smirk. Quinn would feel more pain with a punch, but... Brandon liked the thought of the professor taking his cock. And from the way Quinn had eyed Brandon’s chest, he probably wouldn’t mind, either.

  “As I mentioned before, human and mammalian bloods are different,” Quinn said, looking at the rest of the lecture hall. “But only in the smallest things—the white blood cells in a pig would target the microorganisms dangerous to pigs, while the white blood cells in a human would target viruses dangerous to humans.”

  It felt as though that was important information, but Brandon couldn’t tell how, or why. He scowled, his nails biting into his palms. You damn bastard. Why did I sign up for this?

  “But due to the minimal differences, there has been talk about animal-to-human blood transfusions for the future.” Quinn glanced at Brandon, his lips pulling into a smirk. He tapped on his laptop keyboard. “That brings us to the end of today’s lecture. For more information on blood composition...”

  And that was it. The lecture he’d walked a mile to attend. Brandon glanced at the empty seats around him, his thoughts whirling in his head. Why am I even listening to this guy?

  Behind him, the students came to life in a flurry of snapping notebooks. Their voices rose to a hum, and he shoved his soggy notes into his backpack, feeling like he’d just wasted his half-day from work. He’d paid good money for this class, too.

  Past the students streaming for the door, Brandon glimpsed the professor rubbing his eye. Quinn frowned and ducked his head. It seemed he’d be there for a while. So Brandon stood, sucking in a deep breath. Even if Quinn annoyed the hell out of him, he needed to know what happened earlier in the lecture. He wasn’t going back to the car shop feeling like he’d learned nothing.

  The professor rubbed his eye again, more vigorously. Brandon circled around the empty rows of seats, then glanced back at the podium.

  When Quinn looked up, he had one black pupil. His other eye was golden.

  3

  Brandon

  Brandon’s heart slammed into his ribs. Vampire, his brain screamed. Kill him.

  For fifteen whole minutes, he’d been sitting just yards from a vampire, and he hadn’t realized it. He’d trusted the creature on some level, talked with him, thought about fucking him. How the fuck did I lose my edge?

  Because Quinn had smiled at him, all friendly, and Brandon had been caught off-guard. He wasn’t letting that happen again. So he strode forward, one hand on his knife, ready to strike.

  Quinn glanced up, eyes widening at Brandon’s expression. Then he looked down, at the knife, and backed away, gaze darting at the students still in the lecture hall.

  If he turned to mist now, everyone would see. And while he was in his solid form, Brandon could pin him, kill him with witnesses, and the police would be forced to acknowledge that there were vampires hiding among them.

  Brandon sprinted. The vampire strode toward a plain gray door on the other side of the podium, and Brandon was three yards from him, two yards, so close he could see the strands of red-brown hair on the vampire’s head.

  The vampire slipped past the door. Brandon swore, dashing into the stairwell after him.

  All he found was a dark mist shooting up between the stair railings. Heart pounding, Brandon doubled up the stairs, watching as the dust gathered into a vague human shape three stories up. He tore up the stairs, gaining on the vampire. Quinn hadn’t pulled the door open yet.

  Brandon lunged onto the stair landing one story below Quinn. The door opened, then squeaked shut. Why had the vampire taken so long to flee? Had he set a trap?

  He sprinted up to the fifth-floor landing, glancing around. No smoke bombs, no flashers. Just a tiled landing floor and a closed door. His neck prickled.

  Brandon yanked the door open, sprinting into an open-air corridor. A black shoe disappeared behind a corner. He charged after it, knife in hand. Why wasn’t the vampire turning into dust again? He’d gain more ground that way, unless he was leading Brandon into a trap by being slow.

  He gripped his knife, feet pounding through the corridors, passing fancy labs with glass windows and wooden doors. The professor glanced over his shoulder, his eyes gold and black. Brandon’s stomach squeezed.

  But fear darted through Quinn’s eyes. Caught off-guard, Brandon slowed. Vampires were never afraid of him.

  He lost the professor at the next turn. After last night’s failure, he couldn’t let a third vampire get away. I can’t believe I fucking sat there in the lecture hall!

  Brandon stopped at a three-way corridor, glancing up and down the whitewashed walls. Then he jogged down one, reading the signs on the doors. The first few were labeled “Undergrad Biology Labs”. Then “Cell Processes”, “STEM Research”, and “Blood Synthesis”.

  Stomach jolting, he hauled himself back in front of that door. Blood Synthesis was the project he’d applied for and got into. And Professor Quinn led that study.

  Brandon swallowed, breathing in deep. He’s in here. It might be a trap. Adrenaline surged through his veins. He waited another moment for his pulse to slow, then reached for the door handle, testing it.

  The door opened easily. Inside, humming machines lined the counters, three benches crowding the middle of the lab. To the side, the office door was shut. There was no mist in the lab, and no human figure standing behind a bench.

  Slowly, Brandon inched into the lab, shutting the door quietly. He edged sideways, double-checked the corners. The vampire had to be in his office. And he knew Brandon was after him.

  So Brandon padded over to the office door, pushing it open.

  Professor Quinn stood in the corner of his tiny office, his arms folded tightly across his chest, his chin lifted. The other contact lens was gone. Both his eyes glinted gold.

  I should’ve known you were a vampire, Brandon thought, his pulse thrumming. The ages didn’t match up.

  “Who tipped you off?” the vampire asked, his voice smooth. “I’m surprised you took this long to strike.”

  “I’m surprised myself,” Brandon said. He stepped into the office, shutting the door behind him. Then he locked it. One of them wasn’t leaving this office alive, and it wasn’t him. “Shouldn’t have taken me that long to realize you’re a vampire.”

  Quinn’s eyes glinted. “You deduced it by the contact lens alone? That’s impressive. The feds didn’t send you?”

  Can’t believe I wanted to fuck you. Brandon stalked closer, past the rocks on the shelf, past the folders crammed below them. There was hardly space to move between the desk and the cabinets. Three yards away, Quinn edged to the other corner of the office.

  “I can’t believe I let you live so long,” Brandon growled.

  “Is that all you do? Kill vampires?”

  “Not your business.”

  “But it’s your business to kill me,” the professor said, narrowing his eyes. “I should know who you are.”

  “You’re a goddamn vampire!” Brandon prowled around the desk, the sight of his dead parents flashing through his mind: their blank faces, the pallor of their skin. He’d gotten home from high school, the graduation invite tucked into his backpack, when he found the vampire towering over them, his mother’s corpse collapsing onto the living room floor. His gut lurched.

  This vampire needed to die. All of them needed to die.

  Quinn heaved away from the shelves, darting toward the door.

  Brandon’s instincts roared, Kill him!

  He lunged for the vampire, knife glinting. Eyes wide, the vampire spun on his feet. He caught Brandon’s wrist, twisted around, and slammed Brandon against the door. Then the vampire leaned in.

  Th
is close, Brandon glimpsed the flecks of honey-brown in those eyes, the whiteness of Quinn’s teeth.

  “You think you can overpower me,” the vampire murmured, his cool breath feathering across Brandon’s lips.

  Brandon shoved him off. The vampire staggered toward his desk, flailing. Weaker than Brandon expected. One that hadn’t fed recently, then.

  Quinn reached for something on the desk. Brandon lunged, thrusting the knife at the vampire’s heart.

  Quinn twisted away. The knife missed him by three inches, tearing a gash across the laminated desk. Brandon swore and turned, and the vampire’s thin fingers snapped around his wrist, slammed his hand down against the pen holder. The stationery clattered to the floor.

  Before Brandon could move, Quinn caught him by the neck, shoving his face against the desk. One knee pressed down on the small of his back. Not bad, Brandon thought.

  The vampire pressed down on Brandon’s hand, and Brandon felt the solidness of his body, the brush of Quinn’s soft thumb against his wrist, right over his pulse point. “I wonder what I should do with you,” the vampire said.

  “You’re gonna bite me like you do everyone else,” Brandon growled, his heart pumping. He wasn’t done yet, but he needed the vampire to drop his guard. “You don’t see what a parasite you are.”

  The vampire chuckled. “You’re the first to call me a parasite in... I don’t know, fifty years?”

  I knew he couldn’t be thirty-five. “‘Cause you don’t give them a chance to. How old are you?”

  “Two hundred or so. I’m not fond of doing that math. Did you really have to show up drenched?”

  “Damn you,” Brandon said. His shirt still clung to his chest, and his hair was still wet. Mr. Fashion Show, the vampire had said.

  “I am already damned.” The vampire chuckled, relaxing his grip.

  Brandon reared up, shoved him off. The vampire fell against the door, and Brandon lunged at him with the knife. Just one clean stab.

  The vampire caught his wrist. Brandon shoved the knife at him. Quinn shoved it back, and they wrestled with the blade between them, its edge glinting in the fluorescent light. With a roar, Brandon slashed at the vampire. The blade nicked Quinn’s shoulder, wedging into the door. Blood bloomed through Quinn’s shirt.

  Brandon yanked his blade out, aiming for Quinn’s heart again. From the corner of his eye, he watched the injury, knowing it would heal in two seconds, tops.

  It didn’t heal.

  He hesitated, watched the cut for ten seconds until pale skin knitted back together. Slow healing. Blunt fangs. What’s wrong with him?

  “You’d do me a service by killing me,” the vampire said hoarsely. “Except I don’t want to die.”

  Killing you is a service? Brandon faltered. In that momentary lapse, Quinn shoved the knife at Brandon’s throat. Brandon swore, knocked his hand away.

  The knife caught Brandon’s neck with its clean edge, pain hissing through his skin. A trickle of warmth slipped down his neck.

  Quinn froze. His nostrils flared, his pupils blowing wide. He’d smelled the blood. And the vampire groaned, his fangs pushing out. Brandon tensed, his nerves on edge.

  But Quinn’s canines were rounded at the ends, so blunt they couldn’t possibly pierce anything. They had been filed down, Brandon realized, his stomach squeezing. What the hell?

  Quinn struggled. Brandon grabbed his wrists. The knife slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the floor. I’ll grab it later. Brandon pinned the vampire’s wrists on the door, up over his head.

  “Gods,” Quinn rasped, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You smell delicious.”

  If he were completely honest, Brandon didn’t stand a chance against the vampire. Quinn could turn to dust and escape his hold right now, overpower him and suck his blood. Except he didn’t.

  Instead, the vampire leaned forward, thrusting his knee at Brandon’s gut. With a growl, Brandon shoved his hips against the vampire’s, rattling the door behind Quinn. But this way, Quinn couldn’t use his legs against Brandon. Being pressed hip-to-hip, their faces inches apart, was a small price to pay.

  Quinn’s gaze dropped to Brandon’s cut; the wound prickled. “Why the hell are you teaching here?” Brandon snapped. He’d trusted the college to have legitimate human professors. “How many other vamps do you know?”

  The vampire laughed throatily. “Why did you attend my class?”

  “Answer me.”

  Quinn licked his lips. Blood slid down Brandon’s neck, pooling along his clavicle. Golden eyes followed its path, and the vampire sucked in a shivery breath. “Damn.”

  Unlike the other vampires Brandon had fought and killed, this one hadn’t tried to sink his fangs into Brandon’s neck. The professor had stood before a lecture hall of students, his gaze dismissive. But with Brandon bleeding in front of him now, the vampire’s eyes glittered. Brandon felt his hunger in the tremble of his body, saw it in the strained tendons of his neck.

  Quinn shook, as though he were fighting himself.

  “What the hell,” Brandon said.

  “Exactly,” Quinn panted. “I—I shouldn’t. Oh, gods.”

  Quinn dipped his head, and the damp, cool touch of his tongue dragged along Brandon’s collarbone. Brandon’s heart thundered. Get away. He’s gonna bite.

  But Quinn groaned, his tongue swiping deftly up, following the trail of blood all the way to the cut. He licked it twice, reverently. He licked it a third time, the flat of his tongue sliding slow over Brandon’s skin. Quinn closed his lips around the cut, his lips soft, the smooth lines of his fangs pressed against Brandon’s throat. Then he sucked, a light pressure that lit Brandon’s nerves with electricity.

  It shouldn’t feel like sex, but it did.

  Quinn moaned, the sound of it vibrating into Brandon’s skin. Brandon’s pants grew tight.

  What the fuck, he thought. He’s sucking my blood and I’m hard.

  The knife lay on the floor. But Brandon bled lightly; he wasn’t dizzy, his life wasn’t in danger. Quinn hadn’t even pierced his skin. Instead, the vampire sucked on him like a lover would, his lean body squirming against Brandon’s, his hips grinding into Brandon’s cock. It felt as though...

  Brandon glanced down, glimpsed the hard line in Quinn’s pants. He’d never seen a vampire like this. Never felt this way with one, dislike and desire pounding through his veins.

  Quinn made a soft, animal sound in his throat, sucking harder, and something jolted straight down Brandon’s spine, all the way to his cock.

  “Had no idea you do this,” he growled. He’d never seen a vampire getting off on blood-drinking. “Grinding like a teenage kid. I can’t believe you’re a professor.”

  The vampire froze, his tongue sliding against Brandon’s throat. “Were—are you—” He gulped noisily, his breath soughing over Brandon’s skin. “You’re not with the feds.”

  I don’t know for sure. “I’m just a student,” Brandon said. But he leaned closer, pinning Quinn to the door with his hips, his hand wrapped around Quinn’s wrists. And Quinn squirmed against him, his clothes catching against Brandon’s, their covered cocks grinding together. Pleasure hummed in Brandon’s body. “Do you do this with all your students?”

  “Hell, no. Gods.” Quinn tipped his face away from Brandon’s neck, licking off the blood on his lips. His golden eyes glittered. “Fuck.”

  Brandon remembered the vampire’s taunts, suddenly. Remembered I wasn’t aware we had a fashion show and Perhaps you should be punctual next time. And why the fuck was he hard because of this guy? The vampire had humiliated him in front of the entire lecture hall.

  Anger sparking down his veins, Brandon shoved his cock at Quinn’s, tightening his grip around Quinn’s wrists. “I can’t believe no one’s killed you yet.”

  “I can’t believe I haven’t killed you, either,” Quinn gasped, his hips bucking up. “Your modus operandi is embarrassingly sloppy.”

  “The hell?”

  And Quinn smi
rked, the bastard. “Do you taunt all your vampires like this?” He shoved his hips at Brandon’s, sending a thrill up Brandon’s spine. “I have my doubts how successful you are.”

  “Like I ever fucked a vampire.” Brandon growled.

  But Quinn was right—no self-respecting hunter would rut with a vampire. And it was obvious to Quinn that Brandon was hard. He couldn’t pull away and pretend this didn’t happen. He aligned their cocks. Then he rolled his hips, squeezed their cocks together. Quinn arched off the door, swearing. Good. He wouldn’t let Quinn be the one in control.

  “I’ve killed eighty. In case you were wondering.”

  “Do you show them your cock as well? Is this how you distract them? That’s low.”

  “I don’t,” Brandon snarled. All he wanted was to wipe Quinn’s smirk off his face. Or maybe he should fuck it off the vampire. “I can’t believe you’re hiding in a college.”

  “If it’s got you taking my classes, I’m not the helpless one, am I?”

  Damn you. Brandon slid his free hand behind Quinn’s ass, hauling him up so their cocks ground together. Quinn choked on his breath, and triumph roared in Brandon’s chest. “Shut that hole,” Brandon growled, sliding his bulge over Quinn’s, trying to find that angle again. “Or I’ll shut it for you.”

  “How so?” Quinn smiled, his teeth gleaming. “By filling it? You’re so sure I won’t plug your hole.” He rolled his hips, the solid line of his cock catching on Brandon’s jeans.

  And Brandon wanted to see him, suddenly. Wanted to know what a vampire’s cock felt like. Wanted to grasp Quinn and stroke him and make him squirm so hard he couldn’t think, and he wouldn’t have all the smart retorts anymore.

  “By doing this,” Brandon growled, reaching between them. He cupped Quinn’s cock through his pants. Quinn moaned, rutting up into Brandon’s hand, the press of his cock insistent. “Can’t talk now, can you?”

  “I can’t believe you’re hunting me,” Quinn gasped. “Do you reward all your vampires? Suck them off, perhaps? I’m sure the other hunters will be delighted to find out.”