by Ines Johnson
I don’t know this man. Not truly. But lying beside him, in the dark room, I feel closer to him than I have any other person in my life.
And just like everything I truly want for myself, I can’t have him. Guilt stabs me in the chest—the thought that fulfilling my destiny will mean the end of his life. But I’ve been taught that the needs of the many outweigh the few.
Virius Serrano is just one person. Not even a person. He’s a vampire. He’s lived for hundreds of years. But by all accounts, not much of his life has been good.
I am a fool to think I’m doing him a courtesy by ending his miserable life. Because the last couple of days have not felt like misery. Not to hear him tell it. Not my experience of it with him.
The feelings of warmth and safety only magnify as I rest my chin on his chest. I still want to dance, only slower now. I want him to sway me back and forth in his arms as we try to outrun the clock of inevitability. I can’t stop what’s coming. Fate will have her due. All I can do is make the best of the time we have.
As I lie against his chest, straining to see more of him in the darkness of the setting sun, the smallest of inhales whistles into Viri’s nose. It happens only once in a few minutes. It proves he’s alive.
My internal clock tells me that the sun is setting. So why isn’t he up?
In the silence of the room, my stomach grumbles. My bladder also calls my attention. I extricate myself from my lover and head back to the bathroom to take care of the necessaries.
Inside the bathroom, I turn on the light. The woman who looks back at me in the mirror isn’t entirely unrecognizable. But she does look different.
Her hair is a rat’s nest of tangles. Her lips are swollen from the long, endless kisses Virius gave after his hand job. I suspect he kept kissing me even after I fell asleep inside his arms.
I have a lover. A strong man who delights in my pleasure. A gentle giant who doesn’t trust his own strength. I vow that, for however much time we have left, I’m going to show Virius nothing but pleasure. I’m going to show him nothing but kindness. I owe him that much.
I wrap myself up in his robe before leaving the bathroom. In the bedroom, I see he still hasn’t stirred. But my belly is now demanding its due.
I slip out of the room, careful not to let any of the sun’s setting light spill inside to harm him. That precaution wasn’t necessary. There are no windows in the hall.
When I make my way back to the kitchen, I see that the sun has nearly set. Only a few rays straggle behind on the horizon, as though they are naughty children who don’t want to be put to bed.
I startle when I see Hadrian Serrano standing to the side of the patio door. His hand reaches out to one of the rays. It burns the tip of his finger.
“Doesn’t that hurt?”
He doesn’t startle at the sound of my voice. Like shifters, vampires have excellent hearing. I’m sure he heard me coming from the hallway. Unless the bedrooms are soundproofed, he likely heard both Virius and me coming last night.
“Yes, it does.” He brings his smoking finger back towards his body and studies it.
“Then why are you doing it?”
He lifts his gaze and regards me. “It reminds me of what I have to live for.”
The fingertip heals instantly. Hadrian gives it a shake as though he just blew out a match. The sun has completely receded down into the horizon, and only the moon’s light remains.
Hadrian crosses to the refrigerator. He pulls the leftovers of a steak from the appliance’s belly, and sets the dish before me, with a knife and fork.
“Thank you,” I say, digging in.
“Once, I only thought about ways to die,” he says, as though picking up on the end of a conversation I wasn’t aware we were having. “That was when I thought I’d lost the love of my life.”
I know he’s talking about his sire, Domitia. I know that sadistic bitch didn’t only whore out Virius. I heard she did atrocious things to Hadrian in the twisted name of love.
“You know Domitia used to rip my heart out. Literally.”
Damn, so those rumors were true. I had assumed they were hyperbole.
“She got her hands around my heart, but she got her hooks in Viri’s head. She’s still in there.” Hadrian knocked on the side of his head. “I need to know if you mean him any harm.”
The piece of steak I’m chewing doesn’t go down right. Hadrian pours me a glass of water and waits for me to clear my throat. Once I have my voice back, I tell him the truth.
“Virius is my destiny. It was foretold that we would be together.”
“And have a child?”
I nod, not willing to say any more. Not willing to give anything else away, including the little time I’ll have with Viri.
“You understand that prophecies are not always what they seem?”
So Virius has said. And I know that the Mayans predicted the end of the world—and that that date came and went a decade ago, and we are all still standing.
“He’s signed over his stake in the vineyard to you,” Hadrian continues. “As a mating present. Gaius and I are prepared to do the same.”
This time I do choke, even though there’s no meat or water in my mouth. Hadrian watches me impassively. His shrewd gaze studies me like a predator waiting to see in which direction its prey will bolt.
I sit still. “Thank you for the gift. But it’s still Virius I need.”
A slow grin spreads across Hadrian’s handsome face. I suppose that’s the answer he wants, the answer that doesn’t make me out to be a gold digger. Little does he know it’s not gold I’m after.
“Take this.” He hands me what looks like a juice pouch, only the fluid inside isn’t filled with color dye and sugar. “Virius will be hungry when he wakes.”
I hold the blood in my hand and frown down at it. The white label at the top of it reads B-negative. Instead of the word Volunteer Donor, there is an emblem with a logo for Club Toxic on the bag. A woman’s name is printed in a cursive font. Layla, it reads, followed by the words: flogged for thirty minutes.
I know vampires need blood to live. I also know that the blood is a delicacy when endorphins are released in a human. One of the best ways to bring about that flood is through sexual pleasure.
“That’s his favorite,” Hadrian says. His lips are curled in a challenge.
I wolf down the last piece of the steak and slide off the counter. With the moon rising in the sky, I head back to the bedroom. Back to my man. Layla is left behind on the counter. Hopefully, her sweet blood will turn rancid and inedible in the room temperature of the kitchen.
Chapter 17
Virius
I’m always up the moment the last ray of the sun sets. It’s a habit from when I was first turned into a vampire. I knew my fate soon after I was sold to Domitia by my mother.
Domitia had always been a bit of a drama queen. There were rumors that she had tried to take the stage in Ancient Greece as a human. But when it was found out that she was a woman, she had been kicked off and then shunned. Her theatrical flares were then turned towards the men she turned.
I wasn’t the first child she’d collected and groomed before turning. Clodius, whom Domitia had taken when he was a babe in arms, had a fear of beds. Even after he was turned into a lethal creature of the night, he slept standing up to ensure no monsters could reach up and grab him.
With me, Domitia liked to play a game of hide and seek. She didn’t look for me with her eyes. When she found me, she didn’t grab me with those razor-sharp nails of hers and say: Gotcha. No, she liked to hunt me with a torchlight so bright, I thought it was the sun.
I knew what the sun did to vampires. Each morning before I went to sleep, Domitia would send me off to dreamland with the promise of turning me in my sleep. In the evening, when I woke, she’d shine the bright torchlight in my face, making me think I was a turned vampire who would burn.
Now, every evening when I wake, slowly peeling open one eye to check for light, I
can still hear her cackling.
Inside my bedroom, it is too dark even for shadows. Not a sliver of light has made its way inside. But I know I’m not alone.
I can’t see her, but I can smell her. Not the earthy scent of turned earth that always clings to her skin. Not the lush, sweet smell of a ripe grape. Not the musky scent of her wet cunny.
What I smell above all that is the sweet fatty acids, the bitter iron, and savory proteins of Zahara’s blood. Hunger grips me. The few blood cells that remain inside me all rush to my gut. I have never had to fight against that particular organ before, as a vampire. The stranglehold it wraps around me is Herculean compared to my cock.
My dick doesn’t rouse as I snatch Zahara from her post at the door. Her abundant curves are light in my arms as I toss her down onto the bed. She lets out a yelp of surprise. My hands are pinning her down before she can escape me. My dick remains tame, still sated, even with her sweet cunny so near. It’s my fangs that have become the real monster. Those sharp points are the new beast that will take its due.
My fangs punch through my gums. The four points of pain don’t bring me back to my senses. Zahara’s wide eyes do.
They flash up at me—not one, but two suns shining on me in the night. Zahara’s gaze is brighter than any torch Domitia ever used to bring on nightmares. I see the truth in Zahara’s stare; I am the monster.
I release my hold on her. Once she is free, Zahara sits up. She reaches over to the nightstand and turns on the lamp there.
Soft illumination floods the room. But the glare of the light is too much for me. I move to the end of the bed, preparing to put as much distance between her and myself.
And I thought I could be a father? I can’t control my most base instincts. Not my dick. Not my fangs. There is no way I can be trusted with a new life, even if creating one were possible.
Zahara’s hand catches my wrist before I can get far. “Where are you going?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. Shame clogs my throat and clouds my eyes.
“To the kitchen?” she continues when I remain mute. “To grab a bag of Layla?”
I have to turn to her now. Her words aren’t making any sense to me. What’s a Layla?
“I don’t want you drinking sex-spiked blood anymore,” Zahara goes on. “If you’re thirsty, you’ll drink from me.”
Either I’m asleep and dreaming the cruelest nightmare, or I’m awake and hallucinating. I’m not sure which I’d prefer to be true. Zahara is slipping out of her robe. Her naked body is revealed to me as she peels off the pieces of fabric. There is an ache in my loins. But the low levels of blood in my gut refuse to go any further south, so my cock can’t rise to do anything about my mate’s nakedness.
So, this is a nightmare then.
“I just nearly killed you,” I finally manage some words.
“You mean when you tossed me on the bed?” Zahara moistens her lips, leaving behind a glossy grin. “I thought that was foreplay.”
Not a nightmare. Perhaps a very vivid fantasy?
“You’re thirsty,” she continues. It isn’t a question. “I’m giving you permission to drink me.”
The pounding in my fangs dampens the throbbing of my cock. I move towards her. Slowly. Not because I fear I’ll scare her. I’m scared of myself.
My need for this woman is great, so absolute. Every part of me wants a part of her. My teeth want to sink into her veins. My cock wants to thrust into her sheath. My eyes want to feast upon her loveliness. I need to touch her with my tongue, taste her with my hands, get the smell of her on my teeth.
“Spread your thighs for me, my wee kitten.”
With only a hint of hesitation, which I suspect comes from the endearment and not my command, Zahara does as she’s told. She opens to me. My gaze has trouble focusing as the heat of desire washes over me. The gates of Heaven are open to me. Two paths lie ahead.
The first gate is a set of double doors. The pink lips of her cunny are flushed red with the evidence of her desire for me. I could sink my tongue into her entrance and sate the cravings of my loins.
On both sides of the first gate sits the other set of doors. Her femoral arteries are the blood supply that is pumping in the blood fueling Zahara’s sexual thirst I could sink my fangs into one of those thighs and sate my blood thirst.
She’s offering me both. Where should I start?
I take a step towards her. My gaze flicks from her dripping cunny to the pulsing beat of the blood beneath her skin. I wrap a hand around her right ankle. With my rough tug, Zahara collapses flat onto her back.
I spread her thighs out, like a butterfly opening its wings. Using my thumb, I brush through the curls of her sex to find her bud. It’s already swollen, filled with the essence she has offered me for my sustenance.
I swipe at it, rubbing her clit in tight circles. Once Zahara is purring from the attention, I give the bud a lick.
Just a taste. It is only the appetizer. And like all appetizers, the bite-sized sample of her clitoris does not fill me.
Slipping two fingers into her tight cunny, I pump my fingers in time to the blood rushing through her artery. In no time, she is trembling, crying out her pleasure to me. The moment I feel her walls clenching around my fingers, I sink my teeth into her thigh.
Zahara screams as I pull. The dual sensations are likely causing a duel inside her. The muscle-clenching pleasure of the orgasm. The piercing bliss that comes from my bite.
I can taste the change in her blood as the endorphins flood her system. It’s the difference between taking no lumps of sugar in a cup of tea and drinking a little bit of tea leaves from the sugar dish. The saccharine taste of her doesn’t rush to my head. It rushes to my groin. The beast wants in on the action. With my mind clear and my veins full, I can’t fathom why that isn’t a good idea.
Chapter 18
Zahara
I’m not sure how long I shake. I’m not sure how long I tremble. I can’t remember a time when my body was still. When my insides weren’t hot and clenching.
Why do people bother getting out of bed in the morning—or at any time of the day, for that matter? This is how I want to spend the rest of my life: having Virius Serrano bring me to orgasm with his mouth, his fingers, and now with his fangs.
I can’t blame Layla the blood donor for volunteering anymore. Had I known the bliss of a bite, I would have lined up outside Club Toxic myself. But she can’t have Virius’ fangs. He’s my man, and the hell if I’ll share.
I look up at my man through glazed eyes. His lips are coated with a gloss of red. I grin to know it’s my blood.
He licks at the droplets on his lower lip, but a sheen remains. It’s not just my blood that paints his lips. It’s also the result of my back-bending orgasm.
“I want more,” I say. “I want all of you.”
I reach for his dick. I expect Virius to step back, to grab my wrists and pin me down. I wouldn’t have minded that. I’ve grown to like being overpowered by him. If another man or beast had tried it, I would have had their balls.
I want Virius’s balls. I want them slapping against my ass as he thrusts into me. And I think I might just get my wish.
Virius doesn’t pull away from me as I grab for Frankie. He leans into my touch. Maybe he’ll let me give him another hand job? I’ll settle for that tonight. But tomorrow he’s going to have to give me the real deal. He won’t have a choice.
Tomorrow night is the lunar eclipse. Neither of us can stop that celestial occurrence. And when it happens, the prophecy will be due.
But I don’t want to think about that. I just want to think of him. I just want to make this man feel happy, to feel whole for as long as we have together.
Virius folds his large hand around mine. We are holding his shaft between us, together.
“I can’t get you pregnant,” he says.
“That’s why I want you now. Because I want you. I don’t want this to be about destiny or duty. I want it to be about me and you.
Please.”
His lids shut, and his body shudders.
“Please,” I say again. “I want you.”
Viri’s lips capture mine. His tongue strokes against mine. I taste the metallic tint of my blood and the musky undertones of my orgasm. I am laid out on the bed with his large body covering mine. And still, it’s not enough.
His long, cock is still in my hand. The width of him is so thick that my fingers don’t meet as they wrap around his girth. Viri lets out a guttural moan as I try to angle him downward to my entrance. He shudders when my fingers graze the blunt tip of his cockhead.
There is a war waging on his face. His gaze is heavy-lidded with desire. His lips are pinched together with wariness.
I decide then and there I’m going to win this war. With my free hand, I give him a push. Like a large teddy bear, he rolls over to his back. Like the hunter I am, I mount my quarry.
Spreading my thighs, I straddle Virius. Though I’ve always been a flexible girl, the stretch to get my legs to span his hips is a bit of a challenge. But it’s one I’m up for.
Viri looks up at me with wide eyes. His gaze is no longer heavy-lidded. It burns so brightly, it feels like the sun is on me.
I position myself over his groin. I could probably balance my full body weight on his erection. But that’s not what I want to do with the stiff rod at my disposal. I want that monster inside me. And I want it now.
I rub my bare sex against the tip of his cock. He sucked my labia dry after taking my blood, but I am again dripping with need for him.
When I fit Viri’s cock at my entrance, I have second thoughts. Even as I move my hips to adjust, I keep slipping to one side or the other, leaving a part of his thickness on the outside of my entrance.
Viri’s jaw is clenched as he watches me. He doesn’t stop me. His gaze is so clouded over with desire, I don’t think he can.
Finally, after the world’s slowest belly dance shimmy, I manage to fit the entire head at my entrance. The skin there protests as it stretches. But it doesn’t hurt, not exactly.