Dark Destiny (Principatus) (9 page)

Bursting out onto the street, he clenched his fists, fighting for control.

Focus on your anger, Steven. Think about how hideously you’ve just betrayed your only brother. That should cure your depraved hunger.

The thought brought no relief. Instead of guilt and rage dousing his lust, his demon grew closer to the surface, powerful and insatiable. Craving blood and sex with such voracious, predatory force, he almost locked his arms around a nearby hooker there and then, his fangs growing longer, readying for her sweet coppery blood to gush from her jugular and flood his throat with vital life.

He barged through the busy sidewalk, rigid cock pulsing, ragged breath shallow. If he inhaled the human-tainted air too deeply, he would lose control and be lost to his demonic needs.

With a growl, he shoved his hand into his back pocket and ripped out his cell phone, flipping it open and punching in Amy’s number in feverish haste. He needed to feed. He needed to fuck. Now. At the same time. He needed to sate his hunger before he did something foolish. Something—

A hand closed over his fingers, snapping his phone shut with a soft click. A cool, pale hand with long, slender fingers tipped with blunt, blood-red nails.

He jerked his head up, dragging his stare from his now-closed phone to the woman standing before him, her lush, lithe body encased in skintight black silk and leather, her pale, pale blue eyes shining with confused desire.

Without uttering a word, she lifted her hand from his phone and placed her palm to his chest, directly over his still, unbeating heart.

A wave of heat rolled through him, so hot and pleasurable he bit back a cry of exquisite pain. His cock—already ramrod stiff—flooded with fresh blood and lust and he growled, the sound so far from human he felt the pedestrians around them tremble with subconscious terror.

He didn’t give a flying fuck. How could he? When Death stood before him with her hand on his lifeless heart, making him feel more alive than he’d ever felt.

“I’ve just thought of something, Steven Watkins.” She studied him, eyes smoldering. “
You
saw me in Patrick’s bedroom as well.”

Ven’s throat grew tight. He stared at her, his fangs lengthening, his cock throbbing.

“How did you do that, fang face?” she asked, her dark eyebrows pulling into a puzzled frown. “Tell me.”

He stared down into her face, anger, guilt, confusion and desire roaring through him.

Desire as ravenous as his hunger took possession of his body, his mind. Working through his body like an inferno, igniting in his groin, burning through his belly, up into his chest, his unbeating heart, his mind.

“Tell me,” Death whispered, leaning closer. Her eyes shimmered again. From pale blue ice to an infinite, iridescent white. The eyes of a demon more powerful than existence itself. “Or kiss me.”

He did as commanded. He kissed her. Unable, unwilling to deny his desire any more.

The inferno devoured him, and before he could plunge his tongue past her lips the pure, primeval rapture of the kiss consumed him and nothing else mattered. Not humanity, not existence.

Not even Patrick.

Chapter Four

Amy held her breath, watching the vampire—
Raz, Amy. He calls himself Raz—
brush aside the stray lock of her hair falling over her shoulder. The deep predawn shadows of the alley made his face almost indiscernible, but his eyes were impossible to miss. They glowed with iridescent yellow greed, a greed she felt all the way in the pit of her belly.

She tensed, ready for the agony and ecstasy of his fangs. The pain would consume her first, followed by the pleasure, the rapture of the feed.

And if he kills you?

Her body trembled at the thought, but she ignored it. She didn’t care. She needed to feel this now. She couldn’t wait any longer.

Ice-cold fingers traced the line of her jugular down from her jaw to her collarbone, the path they took followed by a tongue both wet and cold.

“You smell delicious,” the vampire murmured, grazing her flesh with his teeth.

Another tremble shook Amy, this one a surreal mix of sexual craving and abject terror. “I’ve been told so,” she gasped, struggling to keep her voice even. She’d never offered herself to a vampire other than Ven. She just wished this one would hurry up.

There was a heavy pause, a tightening of his arrogant, overly familiar grip on her arse, and then he pulled back, his yellow stare drilling into her with almost contemptuous humor. “Really?” He grinned, his fangs glinting in the dim alley light. “By whom? I assumed I was your first?”

Amy shook her head a little, the fire in her belly and her sex threatening to devour her. Oh, God, would he never bite her? Would she never have release? “No. My…my boyfriend is a vamp.”

It was a little lie. Ven had never called her his girlfriend, but she’d been his main feed for three years now. They went to the movies together, swam in the beach at night together, made love on the sand…surely that’s exactly what she was? His girlfriend? And if Raz thought she had a vampire boyfriend, he would be less inclined to drain her. Wouldn’t he?

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry even as her pussy grew wet with dark, impatient craving.

The vampire’s grin stretched wider. “Really?” he repeated on a chuckle. “And what would his name be?”

Amy shivered, her sex contracting in denied anticipation. The aching need in her body was beginning to undo her. “Steven Watkins,” she ground out, breath quick, eyes squeezed shut. “Now, shut the fuck up and bite me, damn it. I didn’t come here for a conversation.”

Raz stiffened for a moment, his lips still on her neck. “Steven Watkins?”

She nodded and for a glorious moment, she felt his tongue touch her neck, just above the point where her pulse beat like a trapped moth. Her breath caught in her throat in a hitching whimper and she braced herself.

“The vampire that surfs by moonlight?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me more about him. Now.”

The low command vibrated through her neck and she groaned, her nipples pinching tight, her fists curling tighter. “Why?” she moaned, pressing her hips against his cold body. “Does it matter?”

“That depends.” He touched the curve of her shoulder with his icy lips. “Do you want me to bite you?”

Hot frustration rolled through Amy, bringing stinging tears to her eyes. Her body shook, the need to feel the burn so powerful she could hardly think. “He’s just a vamp.”

“So why are you here?” Sharp fangs dented her neck. A little. “With me?”

“Because he didn’t come to me tonight…or last night, and…” She bit her lip, humiliation almost dousing the craving. Almost, but not at all.

A cold tongue traced a lazy circle around the little dip at the base of her neck. “And?”

A shudder rocked through her. “And I can’t wait any longer.”

The vamp tugged her hips harder to his and another, more primitive shudder claimed her. He was aroused. Very aroused.
Oh, Lord, forgive me.

“Why hasn’t he come to you? Did you do something wrong?”

Amy shook her head, trying to rub her neck against his open mouth. Fuck, how much longer? She couldn’t take it anymore. “No,” she groaned. “He has a younger brother he needs to protect. Sometimes he goes to him instead.”

Raz became very still. “A brother?” The fingers on her arse curled harder into her butt cheeks, the lips on her neck softly nibbling her flesh. “Tell me his name.”

“Patrick.”

Ven’s brother’s name burst from her lips before she could stop it. A wave of unease rolled through her, tight and cold, but she ignored it. What did it matter if a vampire knew Patrick’s name? It wasn’t like he was anyone important, and Ven spent so much time looking after him, even if the vamp at her neck
did
decide to go after Patrick, he’d fail.

The unease in her belly twisted into a knot at the thought and for a split moment Amy wished she could take it all back. What was she
doing
here? Why did the vamp want to know about Ven and Patrick?

She shifted, trying to move away when she felt sharp fangs graze her skin.

Hot pleasure rushed through her. Oh, yes!

“Steven and Patrick Watkins?” Raz murmured against her neck.

Her pussy contracted and she leaned closer to him. “Yes.”

He made a humming sound, fangs pressing harder to her flesh. “Hmmm. Good.”

That sense of unease rolled through Amy again. She stiffened…and he bit her.

Her orgasm, explosive and tainted with dark guilt, shot through her. Clamped her cunt shut on a nonexistent dick.

The burn spread through her body, wicked fingers of wonderful, terrible heat scalding their way to her craving core.

Oh, yes, yes!

Her newfound “friend” she’d all but thrown herself at in the Pleasure Pussy not but forty minutes ago, sucked at her neck, his fangs gouging deeper into her throat, his tongue rasping against her flesh.

She closed her eyes, letting the burn devour her. It was the single most painful yet exquisite sensation she’d ever experienced. There were no words to describe how it felt. None that she knew of, anyway. All she knew was the need to feel
this
never left her anymore. She needed it more than breath. Every second of every minute of every day she felt the craving. It consumed her. Like the raw energy of a cyclone—forceful and undeniable. Magnificent. Lord, why had she wasted so many nights waiting for Ven to come to her when she could experience the burn any time she wanted.

Why had she waited when it felt so…so… “Fucking good,” she moaned, pressing her legs together as the product of her climax dribbled down her thighs.

Raz chuckled, the soft sound vibrating through his lips, his fangs, down into her centre. “As good as your boyfriend?”

The question filled Amy with fresh guilt and she squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the sight of the grimy, trash-strewn back alley in which they stood, shutting out the faint pink smear of dawn coloring the dark sky above them. Ah, she didn’t want to think about Ven. Not now.

But the vampire wouldn’t let up. He seemed to draw pleasure from the acrid guilt in her soul, fed from it as enthusiastically as he fed from her neck and there was nothing she could do to stop him. Not while
his
pleasure allowed hers to be.

“Tell me, my sweet little Amy,” he continued, lifting his lips from her throat. Amy cried out, sinking her nails into his icy-cold shoulder in an attempt to hold him to her. Pale red eyes regarded her from behind stubby black lashes. “Tell me what Steven Watkins would think about you being here with me.” His lips curled into a sly grin, his tongue darting out to catch a drop of her blood lingering at the corner of his mouth. “Tell me what his human brother would think of it.” He lowered his head a little and blew a fine stream of air onto her wet, blood-seeping neck. “Where are they now, Amy? Shall we go find them before the sun rises completely? Shall we let them watch our little show?”

A soft whimper slipped from Amy’s lips at Raz’s murmured suggestion and an image of Ven watching another vampire feed from her flashed through her head. A sinful thrill shot straight to her still-contracting sex and she shook her head. “No.” Her voice was husky. “The sun is almost up. Ven will be sleeping.”

Raz pressed his lips back to her throat, touching the weeping puncture wounds there with the tip of his tongue. “And his brother?”

Amy shivered, her heart pounding, her flesh tingling. “At work.” She shifted, pressing closer to the vampire. “He is a lifeguard.”

Raz’s tongue flicked from one wound to the other before he lifted his head to stare into her eyes. “A sun lover.”

She laughed, a nervous little hiccup of sound. “Yes. You could call him that.”

Raz’s eyes flashed brilliant vermillion. “Yes,” he murmured. “I could.”

His lips parted again, as if to return to her neck, and Amy braced herself for the agonizing rapture of his continuing feed. She needed it still. What he’d given her so far was wonderful, glorious, but it was not enough.

But instead of suckling her throat, Raz kissed her flesh with cool, wet lips and straightened, removing his arms from her body.

“No!”

She hadn’t meant to shout. Nor sound so desperate. She bit at her lip, her body already screaming with furious denied want.

“Do not fret, my sweet little Amy,” he purred, red eyes glinting. He stepped back into the protective safety of the narrow alley’s nighttime shadows. “I will give you more tonight. Much more.”

Amy’s pulse quickened. More.

A long finger extended from the deep shadows to touch her cheekbone, her lips. “Tonight I shall feed from you until your orgasm drains you of your very will to live.” He paused, and his hand withdrew from her face. “As long as you give me something in return.”

Her body all but writhing from Raz’s declaration, Amy nodded, searching for him in the darkness. “Yes. Just name it.”

His chuckle floated from the alley—before her, behind her, above her, she couldn’t tell. “In time, sweet Amy. In time.”

His words fell over her like a silken promise. She groaned in protest and impatient anticipation, turning on the spot, looking for him. But he was gone, leaving her with nothing but the agony in her neck and the greedy insistent want in her sex.