Fated (Of Blood and Magic Book 1)

by Delicious David

  “Let’s go, then.” She prompted, turning on her floating heels and making her way toward the door. Seydoo glanced at the shattered window for another second, feeling drawn to it for reasons he couldn’t explain. Then he forced himself to tear his eyes off it and make for the door. They had a centuries-old bloodthirsty monster to track.

  LUKE tried to evade Becca’s questions all morning, and he went about this evasion in creative ways. After worshipping her areolas for the fourth time that morning and hearing her soft, sensual moans as his lips sucked her erect nipples, Luke knew that he could no longer keep this up. He smacked her ass over and over until it wore a bright pink shade, but Becca only kept moaning. She couldn’t get enough of his touch, his lips, his cock, his spankings. The bright, lush pink of her pussy lips glowed with the utmost allure even as he pulled away from her, but Luke held himself back. He had to get her to get them to Cilia’s fast. He needed to understand this new world he had woken up to, and learn to navigate his way around. Besides, there was a certain, sudden tingling at the back of his head now. A sign that trouble was coming. He had envisaged it, though. After all, he was the underworld’s most high profile prisoner before his escape.

  He had found his soul mate—his future queen.Though she was merely a human who would’ve been a mere sack of blood otherwise, she was still of a special breed. She was a beauty to behold, and for a virgin, she fucked real good. Also, she was strong and sturdy like a stallion. She would bear him powerful sons.

  “You have to take me to your grandmother” Luke blurted. Becca opened her eyes slowly, still basking in the residual pleasure from the nipple worship. Though he was barely still in physical contact with her, her pussy continued to drip juice. It was amazing that she could be so sexual. He loved it. But the tingling wouldn’t stop.

  “I won’t move an inch until you tell me about yourself.” She had a stubborn look on her face that only sharpened her curves and made Luke feel a fresh bulge in his pants. His fated mate was indeed worth the wait, but he was getting impatient.

  “I order you to tell me what I need to know and take me where I have to go,” he said through clenched teeth, “You are mine now, remember? You cannot keep things from me when I ask for them.”

  Becca merely smiled a soft smile. “You aren’t ready.” She said sweetly and proceeded to stick a searching finger into her pussy, twirling it like a key. He watched her body spasm as the tip of her finger poked her hard clit. His clit.

  “Are you trying to tease me?” He quizzed, eyes narrowing as he asked. “I could suck all the life out of you right now.” Becca blinked slowly, not taking her busy fingers out. “You may do as you wish, my lord. You own me now, after all,” a mischievous smile crept over her features, “If you suck me dry as you have just threatened, though, you will never find Grams. Plus, you promised you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  Luke’s eyes narrowed a little more, then suddenly his expression softened. She had fire, he could see, and she was equally smart. She was worthy. There was something about the name Cilia that Luke couldn’t wrap his head around. It felt like she was in some way connected to his past, but he couldn’t tell how. Time had stolen the memory from him.

  “Alright” he resigned with a sigh, “What do you want to know?”

  Becca shifted her body, her sexy contours popping as she moved. She pulled toward herself the nearest pillow and propped her elbows on it. “I want to know everything.” She said with dreamy look in her eyes.

  “You’ll have to be more specific than that.” He responded, his lips curving into the shadow of a smile.

  “Who are you, Luke?” Her expression turned serious all of a sudden, hardening like glass in a split second. He fondled the pendant he had taken from her in his fingers, feeling the cold metal around the jewel shiver at his touch. It was almost like the pendant had a mind of its own. It pulsated with a silent magic that seemed ancient, yet potent as ever. Luke absorbed her features with his crimson gaze, observing the trained expectancy of her expression. Could he trust her?

  “I am a direct descendant of Ambrogio,” he exhaled, his features relaxing, “Ambrogio was the very first vampire, and the greatest of them all.” His face shone with reverence and Becca watched him, enjoying this new facet to Luke that she hadn’t noticed previously. “I inherited his kingdom, you see, and we waxed from strength to strength. I had a castle in the northernmost reaches of Transylvania. I had armies of vampires under my command.” His face contorted suddenly, “I even had a garden.” There was a potent bitterness underlying his voice, and Becca wondered about the garden. It must’ve been really special to him. She reached out to touch the side of his cheek softly and he closed his eyes at her touch. It was therapeutic, like a magic healing potion.

  “So, what changed?” Becca prompted, her eyes urging, her tits pointing like arrows at the center of his chest. Luke sighed and blinked his eyes open. A stray ray of sunlight bounced off the walls and he studied it. He had always been a source of envy amongst all vampires, as he and kin had been the only ones with the natural immunity against the harsh glare of the sun. Other non-royal vampires would melt to a pile of dust if they stayed in the sun for anything north of a half minute. All of the vampire clan had seen his natural ability—which was a product of the admixture of the bloods of Ambrogio and the Lady of the Sky, which had been encoded in Ambrogio’s DNA and would be passed on till the end of time—as a gift, and edge, but to him it had also been a cross, a heavy weight of natural leadership which he had been born to adopt, doubts and all.

  Other clans had always stood in perpetual fear of the vampire clan, the vampire hunters and the witches most especially. The Lykae had viewed the vampires as mere equals, as they were inflated by their tremendous physical strength, but the vampires got the better of them in most clashes. Naturally, there were battles and tussles over land, territory, and proprietary rights in Transylvania, and Lukai, as King of Vampires, would not have been seen as weak. Then, to complicate things even further, the prophecy had been issued from the Oracle of Transylvania. Lukai would find a fated mate in a dominatrix, with whom he would go on to conquer the clans and build an empire. Lukai had been deeply thrilled by this issuance. It finally meant that all the hate and hiding would end for the vampires. They would finally be truly free.

  Lukai had reasoned that if he subjugated the clans, they would have no choice to defer to the vampires, and then everyone would know their place. With the help of the witches, they would work out a spell to block the sun over the vampire kingdom, so they could roam free all day and all night. The Lykae would be sentinels, the force of the new kingdom, and they would protect the lands with their brute force and tactical training, supervised of course by high-ranking vampires. And vampire hunters would be forced to drop their weapons and cease all hunts. He would spare their lives, and his people would finally be free.

  So he had begun his quest to find his fated mate, scouring all of Transylvania, but he had faced tough resistance. He hadn’t intended to take any lives, but the Wiccans had pushed him to the wall, casting binding spells that sucked the life force out of his men. Then the vampire hunters had captured an entire squadron of some of his brightest men and tortured them until they dissolved in a pile of dust over a roaring furnace. And then he had exploded. “I had no choice but to retaliate, and so the massacres began. There were tons of casualties on all sides.” Luke intoned, his palms clenching as he spoke. Becca’s eyes widened as the words sank into her ears and took fresh meaning in her mind. She had heard stories of the descendant of Ambrogio who had wreaked havoc over all of Transylvania and had begun the great massacre. In the tales, he had been a psychotic aggressor whose tyrannical tendencies had made him a terror great enough to unite clans that had never before then agreed on anything. According to the tales, the coalition of the vampire hunters, Lykae, and Wiccans had been a reactive response to the threat. Luke’s revelation now was raising fresh question marks behind those stories.

  Becca had always
known that history was never complete, or truly accurate; it was only as objective as the person who told it. For instance, Grams always told stories of how her mother had loved conjuring images of fancy creatures like fairies, goblins, and elves that she read about in her children’s books, but Gramps, when he was alive, had claimed that those creatures had actually terrified her mother so much that she found it impossible to sleep on nights when she was read fairy tales. Becca had not known who to believe at first, but she had ended up settling with Grams’ version of the story, because she had a soft spot for her Grams, but also because Grams always let her chow on too much ice cream. History always contained its biases, after all. So, who was lying? Who was telling the truth? And if Luke’s words could be taken at face value, what did it all mean then? Had she been fighting on the wrong side of a war that should never have happened in the first place?

  Becca couldn’t remember the last time she sensed a vampire. By the time of her birth, her father had already slayed at least three dozen vampires. They had become vulnerable to attacks by other clans, and their numbers had dwindled considerably. Now, she knew why. They had lost their king, and, like a body with the head severed, they had bled out from the top down until they had barely any life left in them.

  Luke’s eyes had glazed over at this point. Becca wondered if vampires could cry. “In middle of the clash, when the other clans, abandoned by the werewolves who had preferred to be onlookers, realized that we were winning, they had found a mole in my court, filled his head with fake promises, and then taken us out from the inside through him.” Tyrone flashed in Luke’s mind at this point and he felt his chest rise with bile. Because of Tyrone, the Wiccans and Hunters had found a way to penetrate the castle and destroy the fortress. All royal blood (Ambrogio’s descendants) had been killed in the surprise attack, except for him, and they had razed the castle to the ground with nzeri fire. He had watched his comrades fall and his beautiful garden burn as the Wiccans and Hunters bound him in a vortex of spiraling energy. They couldn’t kill him, they had realized, so they had resolved instead to chain him down until eternity.

  Luke’s eyes narrowed until they were no more than horizontal slits. He had detected Tyrone’s essence the instant he had arisen from his protracted sleep and broken out from his prison at the center of the earth. The traitor was still alive. The instant he was done seeking Becca’s hands from her grandmother and getting her blessings, he would hunt Tyrone down and take his head back to Transylvania with him, as a trophy.

  Becca’s hands caressed his wounds as his words sank in. Despite his fierce exterior, he was broken inside. She could feel it, that soft vulnerability, and for some unfathomable reason it endeared him to her. She looked into his eyes, and this time the hairs on her skin rose as she was transported into his mind, into his hundreds of years of struggling in the dark hole at the center of the earth, hot and in dire pain, encased in a humongous bronze metal head which glinted withthe energy of a thousand spells. She searched his mind and found that all that while, in the midst of the stormy rage and erupting pain, his mind had been affixed on only one thing. His fated mate. His queen from the prophecies. The other half of his soul. His yang—HER.

  Becca swelled with pride that someone could love her so much without ever even knowing her. She realized that she had never felt so wanted before. It was a new, warm feeling and she loved it. She loved how his eyes dripped with desire and his mouth tasted like a red fruitcake she could never finish. He had taken her to clouds of pleasure that she had only ever attempted to imagine, and his passion filled her with a flame that brought her instincts alive, activating the many years of training that she believed were forgotten. And now she could peer into his mind. It was settled. He was indeed her soulmate, and she, his.

  She rose to her full height, cupping her voluptuous breasts in her hands, her vulva standing in its full queenliness. She looked like an elegant supermodel in a nude photoshoot.

  “I’m a dominatrix, and vampires have hunted me all my life, seeking my blood so they may gain the gift that you already have,” her voice rang with a sudden power, and Luke felt his cock stand at attention beneath his pants, “And now I’ve found you, my destiny, and I’ve never felt so alive.” Maybe it was the sun playing tricks on his eyes, but was she glowing?

  “I think I like you, Luke,” she said with a bright smile, and then her eyes shone with fresh mischief, “Plus, you fuck real good.” She drawled on the last word and Luke had no choice but to smile. Then in one swift movement she leapt off the bed and began gathering her clothes, her hair jumping seductively against her neck. She picked her purse off the ground and gathered her IDs, credit and debit cards, and hoop earrings. She also finds her gun and, with outstanding skill, loads up the magazine

  “Just in case.” She smiles sweetly, observing the quizzical look on Luke’s face. But the look persists. “Where are you headed?” He asks, looking concerned.

  “Where else?” She chirps. “We’re going to see my Grams.” And then Luke smiles, picking himself up from the mattress and putting his clothes on rapidly. This Luke, he smiles.

  Chapter 9

  THE MANSION

  Their search had led them to an ancient telephone box, and then through an estate of two hundred identical houses, and then up the stairs through the subway, and then to the airport. Timou wondered why Lukai had moved in such a bizarre manner. He was presumably too powerful and arrogant to care about covering his tracks, and while he had been notoriously brash and reckless, the stories had also depicted him as a being who was cold in a calculated manner. So, the only thing that made sense to Timou was that Lukai had been after someone right after his escape. But who was it? Had he found his fated mate? Timou smirked at the possibility. His fated mate was predicted to be the key to unlocking the full extent of his power. If he had found her, then he would be an even bigger threat than he was those many years ago. It was supposed to be horrifying news, but Timou only found it humorous. He had always seen threats as sources of laughter. Besides, no threat, no matter how huge, was invincible.

  Elena floated in front of them, leading the way as she always did. Her orb glowed with intense radiance today. She had always been a fantastically gifted witch, and her powers only seemed to grow with each passing season—just like her beauty. He remembered training with her in the forgotten ruins of Transylvania, just before their appointment as elite operatives with the Transylvanian High Commission. Her plump backside and ample boobs turned all heads, including his. On some nights, he would dream of her. She would be wearing lacy panties but her boobs would be exposed, and they would stand like an unshakeable mountain, her nipples supple and succulent to his sight. Her eyes would be pools of pure desire and her hips would quiver and scream with sex appeal. And, of course, she would be floating, exuding the very arrogance that made her irresistible to him, but this time she would be floating horizontally over the bed.

  And then he would run his tongue in her ear, and then over her gallant cheekbones, and then her majestic neck, her bulbous boobs, oh, those boobs, and he would take turns anointing her mountain peaks with the touch of his hungry lips, and feel her moan beneath him as he nibbled at her areolas, causing her to erupt with pleasure. And then he would run a seductive tongue across her belly button, linger a bit to blow bubbles on them, and the he would run them down those clever ridges that led to her pussy. He was sure her pussy would be made of pure glory. He imagined her juices flowing, dripping, and his tongue lapping it all up like an obedient dog, her moans rising with the intensity of the sun. And then, as consistent with her self-obsessed, dominant character, she would take the charge and pull him toward herself by the crotch. His cock would explode with pleasure at her touch, and then her tongue would tease his prepuce, running silvery circles around the cap of his cock, and then she would take him all in.

  Elena, she would be too proud to choke on his cock, but her sensual tongue would send him giddy with unimaginable pleasure. Not to be undone, he would we
t a finger with his mouth and then roam all the way down to her glory hole, and she would jerk as he fingered her, taking more of him in that she would normally be willing too, and they would both float to the heights of pure pleasure.

  Then, in a sudden swift movement, he would flip over her until he faced her legs, his legs splayed at both sides of her face, with his sex fully captured in her mouth, and then he would make her pussy into a cupcake and bite into it until she screamed and gagged, shouting her moans into his rigid cock. And then he would run his tongue across the nooks and corners of her vulva. And then, with great effort, he would find her clit and lap it with his tongue until it was as hard as stone. They would be a perfect 69.

  Not to be undone, Elena would do the unexpected and lift his cock out of her mouth. She would trace her tongue below the root of his cock, sucking on his balls with a pop, each one after the other. Her body would buzz with the magic of lifting both their weights above the ground, and then her tongue would find his ass hole. He would shudder with pleasure as she rimmed him, nibbling at the edges, her tongue flaking around and capturing his essence. And then they would both roar with pleasure. He would feel the jerk of his pre-cum, and the swallowing of her succumbing lips.