by Celia Kyle
Separate? From Joce?
“No.” She pricked her tongue on a fang—her new fang.
Kate lifted her fingers, tips glancing over the new razor sharp teeth, the tip scraping the digit, but not breaking skin. Vampire.
Joce’s vampire.
Yes. Those two words placed side by side resonated in her soul and they were right. They were good and true and perfect and that connection couldn’t ever be severed.
It’d kill Kate.
It’d kill him.
“Dearling…” Galla reached for her and Kate swatted the vampiress’ hands away.
“No. I’m not leaving.” Kate ignored the lisp that now plagued her speech.
“That animal has—”
“He’s mine,” she hissed long and low, fangs bared once more in a clear threat.
The words rang with truth and she wouldn’t ever call it back. Something stretched and twined between her and Joce. She wasn’t sure what exactly—maybe it was just the bond between a sire and newly turned. An explanation couldn’t destroy the connection, though. Just the thought of Joce burned away some of the chill freezing her bones.
“Katherine Bennett,” Galla snapped and rose until she stared down at Kate. “You will heed me.”
She recognized the tone, the compulsion that filled each syllable. When she was a child, it froze her in place, afraid to breathe for fear of her grandmother’s wrath. As an adult, it sent a tendril of fear along her spine. As a vampire yearning for another and knowing Galla stood between her and what she desired most, it did nothing.
There was no control, no hint of power over her that kept Kate immobile. Oh, Galla’s vampiric strength tried to snatch her will, but it failed. Centuries old and Galla couldn’t overpower a brand new vampire.
“No,” she shook her head and carefully pushed to her feet, steadying herself against the wall. “I need…”
To feed. To rest.
Her stomach twisted and clenched, something inside her saying Joce was the answer to both. She’d been attracted to him at the hospital, but now he was necessary to her survival, to her very being. Every beat of her heart said the same thing. Joce, Joce, Joce.
“Me.” His voice rang through the entryway, a single word immediately followed by his heavy, hurried steps. “You need me.”
She swung her attention to him.
“Joce.” She said his name with a sigh. The coldness that plagued her fled at his appearance, her body warming more and more the closer he came. Her blood called for him, and her mouth watered at the thought of tasting him once more.
“No,” Galla snarled and took a step toward Joce, fingers curled as if they were talons. “You will never—”
Kate wasn’t sure where the strength came from, really. She was drained, the Change drawing on every ounce of her energy, but something inside snapped and urged her forward. It drove her to race past her grandmother and slide between Galla and Joce, to lift her hands and block the vampiress’ attempt to hurt him. To hurt her… something. Her sire? Was that what vampires called the one who Changed them?
“No, Galla.” She shouted the words, fighting to be heard over the woman’s scream. “No!”
But she didn’t stay between Galla and Joce for long. Not when thick arms wrapped around her waist and hauled her aside, shoving her behind a body until all she saw was Joce’s broad back. His quick actions didn’t save her from pain, though. The debilitating cold was gone only to be replaced with a burning sting that enveloped her forearm.
Her forearm.
Kate turned her attention to that part of her, to the long gashes that Galla somehow managed to inflict as Joce drew her to safety. Her blood dripped to the pale marble beneath her feet, the off-white surface stained red with the liquid. Drip, drip, drip… The wound slowly closed, skin knitting back together beneath her watchful eye, pale flesh slipping together like puzzle pieces.
“That’s convenient,” she murmured, staring transfixed as the healing slowly came to an end. Too bad none of her other patients could benefit from such rapid recovery.
Then the screaming started. Not hers. Kate was safe courtesy of Joce barring Galla’s path.
No, it was Galla shouting in… pain?
“Joce?” Kate placed her hand on his back and peeked around him. She thought her grandmother had gone too far, reacting to the situation before anyone understood what was happening, but he shouldn’t hurt her. “What’s going on?”
What she found reminded her of the short stint she spent in the burn unit at the hospital. The bubbling flesh, the way it seemed to melt, twist, and turn from the damage. It slipped down her fingers, gradually peeling back to expose the muscles, tendons, and bones of Galla’s fingers. Her grandmother’s blood poured from the wounds, more and more sliding free to splatter and mingle with Kate’s own.
“What did you do?” Her stomach lurched. “What did you do to her?” Kate shifted her weight and placed her hands on Joce’s arm, intent on shoving him away. “How could you do that?”
Galla’s screams rose in volume, bouncing off the walls and magnifying with each jump from surface to surface.
“Kate, don’t touch her!” A new woman’s voice joined the fray. Not just a new woman—it was Tory. She slid to a stop beside them, stopping between Galla and Joce. Tory whipped a knife from her pocket and reached for Joce’s arm. “She just had to draw blood from you, didn’t she, Kate?”
Tory’s eyes were on Kate and she felt compelled to answer. “It wasn’t on purpose.”
“And I’m sure she doesn’t want to die on purpose, either,” Tory grumbled and snatched Joce’s wrist.
It wasn’t until the blade was pressed to his forearm that either of them spoke. Their thoughts echoing each other. “What are you doing?”
“The vow, idiot. Now, hold still or we’ll lose more of her than anyone would like.” The tip pressed to his flesh and blood welled to the surface.
Galla screeched when she realized Tory’s intent. “I don’t want his blood!”
“It’s this or die, you self-righteous bitch.” It was Tory’s turn to screech.
And no one said a word. Not while the knife dug deep or when Tory forced Joce to hold his arm above Galla’s melting hand or when she squeezed and squeezed until more and more blood flowed.
Galla’s injury began healing, knitting together to reform what was once a delicate, milk-white hand. Now the skin was raw and red, seemingly stained by Kate’s blood. It wasn’t until the last weeping slice closed that anyone breathed, anyone spoke.
“What was that?” Kate whispered.
“That,” Tory dropped the knife to the ground and followed it down until she rested on her ass. “Was what happens when someone attacks a vampire’s fire. His fully claimed, truly bound, and utterly possessed fire.” Kate opened her mouth, ready to ask for a better explanation, but Tory wasn’t done.
“Those words, the whole may the fire in your blood destroy all who threaten part… Yeah, well, her blood will literally destroy whomever harms her. Not figuratively and not in the incorrect use of the word literally way. I mean, her blood will burn someone like acid, and it won’t stop until Joce’s is introduced to halt its progress.”
“That’s impossible,” Galla whispered, drawing their attention once more. Her hand was still dark pink, but the hue gradually lessened with each passing moment. “Fires are a myth. They don’t—”
Tory snorted. “If you say they don’t exist, I can’t promise I won’t punch you in the junk. I’m already pissed at how you’ve acted, the pain you caused, so it’d be my pleasure. Really,” she drawled. “As for the existence of a vampire’s fire. I’m Liam’s fire. Wren is Griffin’s. Kate is Joce’s.” Tory rose to her knees and stared down at the still cowering Galla. “Right or wrong, good or bad, they exist—we exist.”
Fire. The word filled Kate. It wiggled and wormed its way into her veins, sliding alongside her blood and stretching to consume every nerve en
ding. It stroked her. It scraped her. It soothed her. It demanded she do as it desired.
And it wanted Joce. Wholly. Completely. Unquestionably.
There was one other thing she couldn’t fight—she wanted Joce.
Eventually. Maybe. Someday?
Then he looked at her, those blazing eyes that saw into her heart, and she realized someday was that very second and in the middle of the entryway if they didn’t find a bed STAT.
Chapter Eight
Joce knew the moment Kate’s needs changed, transforming from blood to something much more intimate. She wanted him and that hunger reared inside him in response.
He glanced around the hallway, spying all the single males, vampires that could turn his fire’s head. Tybalt and Trewe looked at Kate as if she was a delicious meal.
She was his.
And he needed to brand her as such. He needed his scent to permeate every inch of her until his possession was unmistakable. He wanted to taste her—her skin, her blood—and be tasted in return.
But not here, not in the mansion’s entryway. Not where others could see Kate’s curves as he uncovered her lush body.
My rooms.
Yes, that’s where they needed to be. Now.
Joce reached for her, arm extended, fingers beckoning her close. “Come, chéri.”
Kate didn’t resist, the lust in her gaze telling him she was on the same page. They needed to share their bodies, their blood.
Galla made some sort of objection, but the others remained quiet. Even Carac stepped aside when he led his fire to the stairway. Hand-in-hand they climbed the steps, bare feet sinking into the plush carpeting. The thick padding made their steps noiseless as they made their way down twisting and turning hallways.
Anticipation thrummed inside him, his cock pulsing and throbbing with desire for Kate. He would have her, take her, and fill her at the same time. So sweet. So hot.
Another corner, the final turn, and then they stood before the double doors to his suite of rooms. He laid his palm on the nearby pad set into the wall. It ensured privacy without the pesky need of often-lost keys.
Then they were inside, his silent fire at his side. Words weren’t necessary. Not when their bodies spoke for them, not when their blood knew what needed to be done.
Joce drew her toward the bedroom, his arousal growing with each step. He had a fire. He burned for another. And now he would have her beneath him.
Now. Now. Now.
They passed through the living room, furniture sparse. He had no one to share his life with, the entire apartment was half empty. That would change with Kate’s presence. He would make a home for her.
The kitchen gleamed with disuse, the space constantly looking pristine with its granite counters and bright stainless steel appliances.
Then they were in the bedroom, massive king-sized bed looming with its darkened wood and deep, warm colors.
He realized he’d always attempted to surround himself in the appearance of warmth even though he remained cold. He wouldn’t freeze any longer. Not with Kate.
“Kate,” he murmured, stopping beside the bed and drawing her close. “I want you.”
“Yes.” No argument. No objection.
He saw the truth in her eyes, the raw need lurking within the chocolate orbs.
Joce breathed deeply, sorting through her scent and pushing back the sweetness of her blood. He sought more, he went deeper. There he found her arousal, the warm musk that told of her pure craving.
He began with her shirt, the stained scrubs hardly clinging to her chest. He debated lifting it up and over her head, but settled on tearing it from her body. He grabbed the two halves, grasping both her bra and the shirt at the neck and tugged, pulling until it fluttered to the ground and he was presented with… perfection.
Her body twitched, arms rising as if to cover herself, and Joce was there, stopping her before she could hide from him. Her skin was luminous in the dimmed room, paleness glowing through the darkness and his mouth watered. Her nipples were hardened pebbles that begged for his lips, his tongue, his fangs. Would she let him drink from her breast?
With trembling hands, he cupped the full mounds, cradling them in his palms.
“Never hide your beauty from me,” he murmured and then flicked her nubbins with his thumbs. That small movement gifted him with a gasp and he smiled, reveling in the sound. “You’re so beautiful, my fire. So soft and curved. So perfect.”
He caressed her breasts, enjoying the feel of her silken skin beneath his fingers. Then he moved on, skimming the rounded swell of her stomach until he reached the waist of her pants. Another tug of fabric broke the tie and then the green fabric fluttered to the ground, leaving her clad in a tiny scrap of black silk and lace. It covered what he desired most, hiding her center from him.
Joce allowed his touch to wander, gaze absorbing her every reaction to the slide of his fingers on her flesh. Her heated flesh. He’d never felt warm in his life and now he knew what Changed vampires yearned for.
This burn. This comforting ache. This feeling of love?
He slammed the lid on that emotion, unwilling to let it breathe.
He toyed with the waist of her panties, pale fingers dipping below the elastic hem. His cock throbbed, aching and pulsating with the need to be snug inside her warm wetness. She would cradle him, welcome him with her fire.
“Will you give me this, Kate?” He lifted his gaze from the temptation of her pussy. “Will you let me touch you? Have you?”
Her eyes flashed red, her desperation easily visible. She stepped closer, bringing their bodies flush and he moaned aloud when her curves molded to his hard body. Her delicate hands skimmed his forearms, slid over his biceps, and then across his shoulders. Everywhere she touched warmed him, melting the ice in his veins while stoking his desire.
“That depends.” Kate shifted, her hips, her concealed center, caressing his cloth-covered dick. He moaned with the motion and his shaft thickened further. He wanted to throw her down and drive into her over and over again.
Not yet. Soon. But not yet.
Kate curled her fingers around the torn remnants of his shirt, bringing the fabric taut but not tearing the cloth just yet. “Will you let me feel you?”
“Yes,” he hissed, fangs descending with her nearness, the closeness of her blood.
She repeated his move, thin cotton shredding in an instant, and then her hands were stroking him, petting him, caressing him.
With her hands on his skin, luring him in, he couldn’t help but capture her mouth with his, couldn’t stop himself from slipping his tongue past her lips, and wouldn’t suppress the desire to taste her. He flicked her fangs, first one and then the other, before delving deeper. He sipped from her mouth, relishing the ambrosia of her flavors as he stoked their shared desire.
He pulled her closer as their passionate kiss continued, his hands skimming the soft skin of her sides, then back, one resting on her lower back while the other cupped her ass. He kneaded the plush globe, forcing her against him even tighter.
Her softness cradled him, her hips rocking as she rubbed against him in an erotic, rippling wave. He caressed and stroked every inch of her body he could reach, moaning when she did the same to him. Her hands were everywhere, exploring him while not taking her mouth away.
He rubbed her ass, fingers dipping between her cheeks, the fabric of her panties hiding that forbidden part of her. He wanted to delve between them, tease her ass and then continue until he reached her sopping wet pussy.
And she would be wet. There was no missing the heady scent of her arousal.
When she wiggled and squirmed, fingers finding the waist of his pants once more, he pulled from the kiss with a ragged groan.
“Katherine,” he rasped, heart racing and lungs heaving as he fought for air.
“Mine.” Her response had him nearly coming on the spot. His balls drew up tightly, threatening to coat his fire i
n his cum.
“Tell me you want this, want me.” He needed to hear it once more before they went further.
Kate ripped her hands from his pants and lifted them to cup his face. “I want this. I want you.” She pressed to her tiptoes and gave him a soft kiss. “Want you inside me. Want your cock in me. Want your blood in my mouth. Want to scream your name.”
She lowered her head and scraped his neck with a single fang, giving him a sharp sting to go with the pleasure of her soft flesh flush with his. The scent of his own blood tickled his nose for a brief moment and then her tongue was there. She licked a long line up his neck, gathering the droplets of blood, and he tilted his head back to give her more room.
“Joce,” she blew a soft breath over the damp skin. “Give me what I want.”
Chapter Nine
And Kate wanted. Completely. Totally. Desperately. Her pussy ached, throbbing and pulsing with the desire to be filled by him over and over again. She wanted to be consumed by him, swallowed and dragged along in his wake as passion overrode their senses.
Now.
Joce gripped her arms, claw-tipped fingers digging into her flesh and pricking her skin. That slice of pain and scent of her blood had her fangs lowering farther, that feral part of her excited by the scent and new ache. He shoved her away, putting distance between their bodies and she fought his grip. She wanted to be close to him, skin on skin, bodies molded together.
She shouldn’t have bothered fighting. Not when she realized he’d pushed her only to reposition them so he could be even closer.
Kate found herself on her back in the middle of the massive king-sized bed that took up the center of the room. A slick blanket was petal soft against her spine and she sighed as she sank into the cushioned surface. That sigh quickly turned into a gasp and then a moan as Joce discarded her panties.
By tearing the fabric apart at her hips. Two wrenching jerks and then the cloth became nothing more than a scrap of silk. He tugged it from beneath her and then tossed it aside.