Roaring

by Katie May

  Death.

  He means death.

  Stefan actually pales at his threat. Dimitri’s name has been passed from hunter’s to hunter’s house. A nightmare and a lesson combined.

  Don’t fuck with bigger monsters than you’re capable of taking on.

  And Dimitri Gray? He’s the biggest one.

  Stefan smiles cordially at the expressionless headmaster. “Of course not. We wouldn’t think to harm a hair on any student’s head. I apologize for the miscommunication.” He leans forward, under the guise of giving me a hug, and whispers scathingly in my ear, “Kill the bitch.”

  Every muscle in my body tightens at his words, but I force myself to remain calm. Hating myself a little more, I nod once, my chin hitting his shoulder.

  “Consider it done,” I respond stiffly.

  Stefan slaps me on the back—much harder than necessary—before stepping away and allowing my mother, Felicia, to step forward. She kisses both of my cheeks, her sugary perfume curling around me and making me gag, before putting her lips to my ear.

  “Don’t let me down, son.”

  I’m left trembling as she glides away, my father trailing after her like a besotted puppy. Soon, only Dimitri and Vanessa remain with me.

  Dimitri slides cool blue eyes over to my sister, assessing whether she’s friend or foe, before turning to me.

  “You know I’m not going to allow any harm to come to…the vampires,” he says, voice colder than the breeze ruffling my dark hair. I have the distinct feeling he was about to say something else—a specific name—but caught himself at the last second. To be entirely honest, I don’t care that the headmaster at my school is obsessed with my sort-of girlfriend. Yeah, I want to stab him and all that, but at least I can be assured that he’ll protect her. It’s always better to have someone as scary as Dimitri as a friend instead of an enemy. If he’s your friend, he’ll protect you with every fiber of his dark, soulless being. And if he’s your enemy…

  There’s a reason the monster world fears Dimitri Gray.

  “I’ll take care of my family,” I reply, infusing sincerity in my words, making my statement impossible to deny. Dimitri continues to stare at me oddly, almost judgmentally, before he nods once and stalks away without a backwards glance.

  “They won’t stop until she’s dead,” Vanessa points out, but her tone isn’t malicious, only matter-of-fact. And I know she’s right. Fuck, I know she’s right, but what does she expect me to do? Kill my family? Hurt the people who raised me? The mere thought is inconceivable and sends a cold chill sweeping over my arms. I’m at a crossroads, and every direction has a train barreling my way. Try as I might, there’s no escape. I’m forced to stand with my feet cemented to the ground and face whatever the universe deems I deserve. In this case, it’s blood. Lots and lots of blood. I’m gagging on it, drowning in it, dying with it cascading down my lips.

  “I’ll figure something out,” I reply stiffly, shouldering past her.

  “How?” Vanessa screams at my back. “Fuck, Vin, how do you expect to save her? The Van Helsings have an army. Sure, you apparently have Dimitri Gray on your side, but is that enough?”

  I freeze, one foot in front of the other, as her words ricochet around in my skull. The mere prospect of failing Violet is horrifying. There can’t be a world without her in it, without her spunky attitude, penchant for hot pink and black, and intoxicating laugh.

  I’ll protect her with every bit of darkness within my body, every light. With the dichotomy that makes up any person.

  Is that enough?

  “It has to be,” I whisper. I refuse to believe any other alternative.

  THEY DECORATED the cafeteria with streamers and balloons like it’s some sort of child’s birthday party instead of a ball for the world’s most feared monsters. I would snort at the ridiculousness of it all, if I wasn’t in such a dour mood.

  Nursing a bottle of beer in the corner of the room, I watch Violet dance between Cal and Barret, her hands waving back and forth in the air. God, that girl is a horrible dancer, but she’s just too fucking cute for me not to watch.

  My father stands on the opposite side of the room, a glass of champagne in his hand as his eyes remain fixed on Violet with predatory intensity. He looks as if he’s seconds away from lunging forward, wrapping his hands around her fragile neck, and ripping her head clean off. It’s one of the very few things that can kill a vampire. I should know. I’ve killed more than I care to admit.

  More than I want Violet to know.

  If she discovers my atrocious past, will she still look at me with love and happiness? Will she still verbally spar with me, each snarky word heading straight to my cock?

  “Why do you look so gloom and doom?” Mason queries, leaning against the wall beside me. He languidly smokes a cigarette with one hand while the other holds a bottle of fairy wine. Not just a glass, but the full bottle. I’m beginning to believe my best friend has a tiny drug and alcohol problem, though I don’t have the guts to say anything to his face.

  “She’s a hot fucking mess.” I nod towards Violet, who is currently doing the windmill in the middle of the dance floor. She looks like a princess who has been kept in a gilded cage for her entire life and has finally been allowed to join the real world. There’s an innocence to her movements that are entirely unintentional.

  How can my parents possibly think that she’s capable of hurting anyone? Is it merely their own prejudice against vampires and monsters in general? Is there something I don’t know?

  Violet once captured a fly and set it free—but not before she named it Buttercup and decided to build it a fly home behind her dorm building. The damn bug died days ago, but us guys constantly switch it out with new ones. I’m pretty sure she thinks the fly is magic at this point.

  “She’s our hot mess,” Mason counters easily, downing his bottle and tossing it to the side. He wobbles slightly on his feet, his words already slurring, as he drapes an arm over my shoulder. “I think I love her, Vin.”

  His innocuous words cause me to grind my teeth together and fist my hands. Unlike me, he’s allowed to say that he loves her. He’s allowed to say whatever the fuck he wants. I’m the only one leashed by my family’s expectations of what is and is not acceptable. And falling in love with Dracula’s daughter? That’s firmly in the latter category. If I’m not killed for my transgressions, they’ll strip me of my title and refuse to allow me to contact anyone in my family ever again, including Vanessa. I’ll be nothing more than a bedtime story hunters tell their kids at night, a reminder of what not to do.

  Don’t fall in love with the enemy.

  My anger continues to grow and grow in my stomach. It starts as a diminutive ember, barely flickering with life, before that ember turns into an intense fire that blazes red hot. I can feel it swirling, a tornado of flames, demanding to be set loose.

  “How can you love her?” I ask bitterly, taking another sip of my drink. Unlike Mason, I’m not entirely wasted, but a light buzz is coursing through my veins. “I saw the book.”

  “The book?” Mason steps away from me—practically tripping over his two feet—and raises a single brow. “What the-the hell are you-you talking about?”

  “The book about destroying a mate bond, you fucking prick,” I seethe, towering over him. Mason isn’t short by any means, but compared to me, he’s nothing more than an insignificant, pesky bug. “To sever the bond…and kill Violet in the process.”

  Mason’s eyes cloud over in confusion before understanding dawns. That is quickly replaced by anger and hurt. He takes a wobbly step towards me and points a finger at my chest.

  “That was a-a gift from my-my mother,” he slurs, his rancid breath wafting across my face. I shove at his shoulders to make him take a step back, and he falls on his ass. He continues speaking as if he doesn’t notice his new position on the floor. “If you think for one second I would do anything to hurt Violet, then you don’t know me at all.”

  “Guys, what’
s going on over here?” the vampire in question asks warily. Loose tendrils of golden hair stick to her cheeks as she volleys her wide-eyed stare between Mason and me.

  “Nothing,” I bite out at the same time Mason says, “Just Vin being a fucking prick.”

  Violet offers a hand to him, but he ignores it, hobbling to his feet and leveling me with a glare capable of curdling milk.

  “Go fuck yourself,” he hisses.

  “Mase…” Violet pleads, but he’s already storming away, surprisingly steady despite how unstable he was just a moment earlier. Turning towards me, Violet places her hands on her hips. “What the fuck was that about?”

  “Nothing,” I say dismissively. “Go back to the others.”

  I can see Frankie and Jack eyeing me cautiously. Still on the dance floor, Barret and Cal have stopped dancing and are staring at me just as intently. Testing me, perhaps? Testing my loyalty? Why am I suddenly overthinking this?

  Cursing, I pound a fist against my head, and Violet’s eyes immediately widen in alarm.

  “Vin?” She takes a step towards me, but I automatically step back. She can’t touch me, not here, not where my father can see her. The Van Helsings have eyes and ears everywhere. Nowhere is safe from their gossiping maws.

  Without bothering to respond—and ignoring the crestfallen expression on her face—I turn on my heel and walk swiftly out of the cafeteria. It’s only when I’m outside, eagerly taking in lungfuls of fresh air, do I break into a run.

  Faster. Faster. Faster.

  “Vin, dammit!” Violet screams. “Get back here! I’m not in the fucking mood to—” There’s a loud thump followed by a muffled curse. And then, “I’m okay!”

  I make it to my house in record speed, grabbing my key from my pocket and opening the front door. Before I can close it, Violet sticks her foot in the frame, expression positively livid. I can’t help but snort at the dirt smeared on her cheeks and the twig in her hair. It looks as if she’s partaken in a fierce battle with a fucking forest…and lost.

  “You don’t get to run from me,” she huffs, shoving the door open even further with her vampire strength. “Not again. You fucking promised.”

  “I promise a lot of things,” I murmur, finally stepping away and allowing her entry. I feel unnaturally tired. My eyelids droop as I unknot my tie and allow it to sit over my shoulders. “Just…just go away.”

  “No,” she replies stubbornly. Of fucking course. Because things can’t be easy with her, right?

  We’re gasoline and fire. Every time we clash, an explosion is left in our wake. This type of relationship can’t be healthy, but it’s the only type I’ve ever known. It’s the only type I want.

  If she’s fire, I’ll happily burn for just a moment in her presence.

  “No?” I quirk a brow as I slide off my jacket, draping it over the back of my armchair.

  “No,” she repeats. Shouldering past me, she sits on the edge of the fading brown leather seat, her hands clasped primly together in her lap. “You’re hurting, Vin. I’m not stupid. I know it has something to do with your parents. Did they find out about me and you? Did they threaten you?” Her eyes flash in the ambient silver glow of the moon from the open window. It’s the only light currently on in the house, the only light I feel comfortable in.

  There’s a lot that can happen in the darkness. It’s a place where you can strip bare, where no one can judge you or tell you that you’re wrong. People crave the darkness because the light is too much for them to handle.

  And me?

  I only crave one thing, and she’s currently sitting in front of me.

  “Violet, not now,” I sigh, undoing the buttons of my dress shirt.

  “I said it before, and I’ll say it again—no. We’re not doing this today, Vin. Tomorrow, the Roaring is going to start, and we have no idea what will happen to either of us. We could die—”

  “Nothing is going to fucking happen to you,” I hiss, glaring at the poisonous package wrapped up in beauty and silk. Underneath that immaculate front is a bomb seconds from detonating.

  “Tonight, we’re not monsters. We’re not a Dracula and a Van Helsing. We’re just…us, okay?” She bites on her lower lip, and though she doesn’t mean for that gesture to be coy, I can’t help the heat that flares down below. “And for tonight only, you’re going to give up control.”

  “What?” I bite out as she rises gracefully to her feet and steps forward. One hand rests on my bare chest while the other fingers the sleeves of my shirt.

  “Trust me,” she whispers breathily, staring into my eyes. I gulp heavily, my pulse skittering the longer I maintain eye contact. But, fuck, I can’t look away. “Give me control. Let me take care of you.”

  “What will you have me do…mistress?”

  CHAPTER 25

  VIOLET

  My panties instantly dampen at hearing that one word leave Vin’s wickedly cruel mouth.

  Licking my lower lip, I remove my hand from his chest and sit back down in the armchair. I feel like a queen on a throne—powerful and imperious, the world at my fingertips to do with as I please.

  “Strip for me,” I instruct, greedily lapping up every inch of bare skin already exposed. “Slowly.”

  Vin swallows once more, a muscle in his jaw working, but he does as I say. He needs this just as much—if not more—than I do.

  Keeping his eyes on me, he slowly slides the dress shirt off his shoulders, the fabric pooling around his feet. His skin is heavily tanned, a product, I’m sure, of all the time he spends outside. Tattoos climb down the sides of his chest and cover both his arms. Fuck, he’s a work of art.

  And he’s mine.

  I feel selfish and possessive of this beautiful man with the haunted eyes. No one else is allowed to see him. No one else is allowed to set their gaze upon the artwork etched across his skin.

  He brings his hands to his dress pants and slowly removes his belt. My eyes latch on where it lands on the ground, a thousand possibilities racing through my head. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband and pushes them down, making quick work of stepping out of them. If it was me, I would be on the ground in a tangle of clothing by now. But, Vin? He looks like sex personified as he flashes me a sultry smile.

  The black boxer briefs he wears leave little for the imagination. I can see the outline of his cock—thick and proud—straining against the material. My mouth waters at the sight.

  “Wait,” I say, before he can push them down as well. “Come to your queen.”

  Yeah, I’m trying it.

  Sue me.

  Pleasure blossoms in my belly when Vin obediently steps forward, chest heaving. I flick my chin towards my feet, and he drops to his knees, once more granting me complete and utter control of his body and pleasure. I read an article once that said alpha men often like to give control to their partners during sex—for them to have a safe place where they don’t always need to be in charge.

  And I’ll give him this. I’ll grant him a safe space where he’s free to do whatever the fuck he wants. To be whoever he wants.

  Without speaking, I lift my foot and place it on his shoulder. I don’t know what I’m doing—or if I’m even doing this right—but I can’t ignore the painful ache in my stomach. I…I like being in control. I like seeing a man as proud as Vin on his knees for me. I don’t know if I’ll be this dominant and confident with any of my other men, but with him? I like holding the leash he has on his tenuous control.

  He begins to pepper kisses up my ankle and to my calf, stopping at my knee, and then licking down the same trail his lips just made. He gives the same treatment to my other leg, leaving me a panting, moaning mess.

  “Kiss me,” I rasp, licking my unbearably dry lips.

  “Yes, mistress.” He straightens on his knees, his face level with my own, and tenderly, almost reverently, kisses my lips.

  “Harder,” I beg.

  With a groan, he deepens the kiss, his tongue tangling with mine. Fire sparks in my veins a
s our lips clash and battle. He doesn’t just kiss me—he devours me. He kisses me like I’m the air he needs to breathe, the food he needs to eat, the water he needs to drink. Each swipe of his tongue against my own tells a story.

  I twist my head, and his lips immediately lower to my neck, sucking at the smooth skin there. Tangling my fingers in his short hair, I pull his head back marginally.

  “What do you want?” I breathe.

  “You,” he answers instantly, eyes wild with need.

  I release his hair and nod towards his boxers.

  “Take them off.”

  Breathing labored, he stands and slides the boxers down his legs, his cock springing free, already dripping with pre-cum. I lean forward to take his hard length in my hand, tugging twice before releasing him. He groans as if he’s in physical pain—pain that can only be alleviated by my touch. A twisted part of me likes having that type of power over him.

  Moving to my feet, I turn to give him my back.

  “Help me out of this, will you?”

  “Yes, mistress.” Quickly, he steps forward, hands trembling as he attempts to undo the laces. “How the fuck…?” he mutters beneath his breath as he tugs at them. It takes longer than we both would like, but soon, the dress is in a puddle of pink fluff around my feet. Dressed in only the corset and panties, I face him once more.

  “Good boy,” I praise, reaching between us to tug on his cock. I rub my fingers over his head before using his own pre-cum as lubrication for the rest of his length. There’s something arousing about a man’s cock, about the velvety softness over steel. “Get the rest of this off of me.”

  I once more give him my back as he attempts to remove my corset. If he thought my dress was hard…