Unending Desire: Outlawed Realm, Book 1 (22 page)

Positioned perfectly, Nikoli drove himself inside her narrow cunt, sinking as deeply as he could. She was tighter, hotter than he’d recalled. Pulling her mouth free of his, Regina fought to take in enough air. So did he. With his feet planted apart and his toes gripping the tile for traction, he eased back, then entered her again, as hard as he dared, his balls smacking her ass.

Her gasp evolved into an unrestrained moan…enticing him, encouraging him.

For minutes, Nikoli pumped into her sweet, succulent heat. Blood hammered in his ears. Perspiration clung to his face and throat. Regina’s cheek rested against his shoulder, her channel tightening around his cock.

It was too much and not enough, the contradiction of need and reality warring within him, threatening to ruin the moment. Not allowing it, Nikoli growled out his frustration, his wanting of her, thrusting harder, faster.

They came within seconds of each other, their bodies shuddering, their mouths hanging open to shout their release and to gasp for air.

Still panting, Nikoli recovered first, easing his cock from Regina’s cunt, her legs from his hips. The soles of her feet smacked against the tile. She muttered a protest.

“Quiet,” he said, gentler this time. With his arm around her waist, he reached over and swung the shower door shut, causing the glass to rattle. He regarded the faucets and circular dial on the wall beneath the showerhead. Recalling how she’d controlled the water’s flow when he’d watched her from E2, Nikoli mimicked her movements.

She flinched at the burst of water hitting them. “Oh God. It’s—”

Her complaint stopped as the cool flow turned warm. Releasing her weight into him, she spoke on a sigh. “What now?”

The beginning of the end. Not voicing his thoughts, Nikoli took care of her, allowing himself to imagine that this fantasy would continue. That each morning, he would carry her into the shower and wash her as he did now, running the soapy sponge over her curves, touching each intimate part of her.

She made contented sounds at his strokes on her nipples, cunt, anus.

He continued to hunger, wanting this to last.

Within minutes, he’d cleansed every part of her, and she did the same with him, ending their shower with another savage kiss, the noises they made muted by the pounding spray. On a rough groan, Nikoli pulled his mouth free of hers and turned off the water. After toweling them dry, he lifted Regina’s moist, fragrant body back into his arms, enjoying how she clung to him as he brought her to their bed.

There, with the truth of tonight facing him, Nikoli lowered her to the mattress. Her skin was rosy from the water’s heat. She reached for him.

He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingertips, then backed away.

Regina shot to a sitting position, damp hair clinging to her neck. “Where are you going?”

Nikoli heard her panic. He saw how she stared at his clothing.

“To light a fire,” he explained, maintaining his calm.

She sagged back to the mattress, watching as he went to the hearth. Nikoli glanced at her pictures, touching the one where she wore a yellow hair ribbon.

“I’ll show you more later,” she said.

He started to look at her, then stopped. He had no right to acknowledge hope that they didn’t have. Sinking to his knees, he made fast work of building a fire. Soon, the bobbing flames softened the shadows created by the pale outside light.

Joining her on the bed, Nikoli unfolded himself over Regina, the firm planes of his body pillowed by her luscious flesh. She searched his face as though trying to read what was in his mind and soul.

For now, he allowed nothing but pleasure, driving his cock back into her pussy, demanding it sheathe him, expecting her channel to comfort, arouse and relieve as he took her repeatedly.

Hours passed with neither of them tiring from their acts of love, both of them evading the passing of time. At last, supported by the pillows against the brass headboard, Nikoli held Regina in his arms, warmed by her body and the fire he’d stoked. She ran her fingers around his navel, her movements sated and slow, no different from his as he stroked her upper arm.

They said nothing. Nor did their attention stray from the window, the aging day, the coming of twilight.

Chapter Fourteen

Sazaar’s eyes snapped open.

The night’s lure, the heady fragrance of human scents—of blood—stirred the monster within her, banishing any need for additional rest. As one, she and the others rose soundlessly to their feet, their faces lifted to the skylights. The panels covering them slid back, the motors humming smoothly, the moon’s milky beams pouring through the glass, touching their flesh, acting as a balm.

She smiled with the rest of the vampires, baring her fangs, luxuriating in the cool, silky illumination even as she understood what tonight would bring. Nikoli and Regina’s destruction. Andris’s return to E2. Her people’s enslavement.

A pang of guilt skittered through her, diluting her smile.

Within her mind, Andris’s voice murmured,
“Do you want me, Sazaar?”

More than honor or life. Hadn’t she already proved that?

“Will you give me what I ask?”

She had no choice. She existed for a word of his praise. For any evidence of his fidelity and love.

“You do this,”
he’d promised last night,
“and I’ll have no one but you at my side for all of eternity.”

The hope that his words might be true, that he would keep his pledge, filled Sazaar with more than mere joy. She glowed with satisfaction unequalled by those times when she’d drunk her fill of a victim’s blood, quieting the beast within.

Not caring what she’d become, wanting nothing but Andris, she lowered her head and turned.

Face raised to the skylight, fangs exposed, Andris bristled with energy and power, his blond hair more white than yellow, his pale skin glowing, his irises silvered from the moon’s gentle glow. Fists clenched, shoulders bunched, he hissed loudly.

The others followed his lead. Sazaar made certain she produced the lustiest sound, craving his approval and attention.

Andris regarded her without emotion, his indifference returned…unchanged.

Sazaar’s belly cramped worse than it did when she hungered for blood, a condition he’d damned her to without a moment’s hesitation. Then, he’d promised her an eternity of his love and delivered nothing but humiliation and pain.

Her muscles stiffened in rage, stealing her breath. Overwhelming sorrow followed, along with the continuing need to make him see only her, to want only her. He was all she had left. All her future held.

She couldn’t give up. Perhaps if she tried harder. Perhaps if she gave him everything he desired.

She made a sound in the back of her throat, one of supplication, inviting him to claim her again as he had last night.

Another noise intruded, a prolonged sigh that came from behind.

Andris turned in its direction to the ponytailed barista. Slouched against one of their human protectors, the girl grinned indecently as the young man fondled her naked breasts with his left hand while his other held an assault rifle.

Its metal glinted in the filmy light. Satanic tattoos covered his meaty arms and thick neck. Beyond redemption, he’d slaughtered a Seattle family earlier in the year, taking the mother, father and their three children hostage because they’d interrupted his burglary of their home. For hours, he’d taunted and terrorized them, raping the mother and oldest daughter, playing his savage game that ended in the family’s death.

Shortly after the carnage, Andris had smelled the young man’s corruption and craved his blood but fought his urge to feed, recruiting him for protection instead. Three other men, all in their mid-twenties, all labeled sociopaths in this realm, flanked the room, cradling weapons in their arms as a normal man might hold a babe.

Sensing Andris’s attention and disapproval, the barista slipped away from the young man. With more arrogance than sense, he reached for her, unable to follow because of the shackle around his left ankle. Bolted to the floor, it kept him from abandoning his post.

Fetters also held the other protectors in place.

They accepted their confinement without protest, at least for the time. This one did not. Yanking his foot against a restraint he could not break, he growled, “Fuck.” Again, he reached for the barista, seemingly oblivious to anything but his own lust.

Sazaar watched without emotion, the same as the others, waiting to see how events played out.

“Come here.” The young man grunted, straining to reach the girl.

She backed away again. All fell quiet. Even the night breeze had paused.

Breathing hard, the protector spoke through his teeth. “You get over here now,” he said, “or I’ll give you some of this.” He lifted his weapon.

The girl stared at the assault rifle with more curiosity than dread. A smile tilted the corners of her mouth. She licked the points of her fangs.

His finger slipped to the trigger. Easing it back, he muttered, “Fucking weird bitch. Do as I say or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Andris interrupted, his tone more puzzled than angry.

The young man’s attention snapped to him. His scowl turned to a cruel grin, the kind one would give to a partner in crime. “I’ll blow her fucking kneecaps off; then I’ll tear the rest of her apart with my bare hands. I’ll teach her real good that no bitch defies me, just like you’ve taught your ladies to obey.” He glanced at the other women in the room, settling at last on Sazaar.

Repulsed, she turned away, facing Andris. His attention remained on the young man, his manner quite mild. “You intend to follow my example.”

The protector laughed. “Hey, dude, you’re the best, right?”

Andris smiled.

Clearly bolstered by it, the young man spoke to the barista. “Get over here now, you fucking—”

His command turned to a gasp. Arms flailing, he fell back with the force of Andris’s body slamming into his, their combined weight making a loud thumping noise as they hit the floor. The assault weapon flew from his hand, clattering across the marble, stopping at the barista’s feet. Claws extended, Andris shredded the young man’s throat. His blood arced across the room. Mouths opened, vampire after vampire attempted to catch the precious drops. Andris drank from the gaping wound.

His kill was so fresh the young man’s gaze still darted from face to face, as though he didn’t understand what had happened. His lips moved with the last of his breath and life, mouthing words no one could hear.

Warned off by the attack, the three remaining protectors kept their expressions blank, their attention on the corpse of their comrade, what would happen to them if they displeased Andris in the least.

He fed noisily, his sucks and slurps filling the cavernous loft, riveting the other vampires with the enticing sounds. Even so, they kept their distance. Like lions witnessing a kill on an African plain, they waited for their chance to feed.

The victim’s eyes sank into his sockets as Andris continued to drain fluid from his body. A current of anticipation rippled through the spectators. Sazaar sensed their hunger, the same as hers. To feed after Andris wasn’t only a privilege but ecstasy. His saliva flavored the victim’s plasma, making it richer, thicker.

Her mouth watered. She drew closer.

Instantly, Andris lifted his head. Blood dirtied his cheeks and chin, the rich red color turned black by the gloom, his manner suddenly threatening.

Proving her devotion, that nothing mattered to her but him, Sazaar sank to her knees. She dipped her fingers into a pool of blood near the young man’s severed foot, torn off at the ankle, freed from the shackle by the power of Andris’s attack. Hand lifted, she offered the treat to her master.

Andris licked her fingers clean, then returned to his meal, nearly draining the corpse, leaving little for everyone else. On a satisfied groan, he stood and stepped back.

With keening wails that grew too high-pitched to hear, the other vampires moved forward, swarming over the body, taking what they could. Falling to her hip and edging back, Sazaar lapped the blood at the boy’s dismembered foot.

The barista and her friend noticed. They crawled toward Sazaar, their shoulders ramming hers, their elbows jabbing, forcing her to retreat, to give them her meal.

Enraged, she fought back, knowing their next target would be Andris, wanting him for their own. She slashed the ponytailed barista across her chest, relishing the girl’s howl. She sank her fangs into the shoulder of her friend, interrupting her hiss. Despite her attack, they wouldn’t relent.

Blindly, Sazaar bit and clawed. Her mouth opened on a scream of frustration cut short by her gasp. She stared at Andris grabbing the barista’s ponytail, using it to lift her from the floor. With one powerful swing, he flung her across the room. Her body crashed into the velvet-covered wall, then crumpled at the feet of one of their human protectors.

He made no move to help her. His attention remained on Andris, his expression revealing his awe and admiration.

Andris glared at the other barista. Terror filled her youthful face. She crawled backward, putting distance between them. It didn’t matter. Andris stalked closer, intent on his prey, his words menacing. “The blood belongs to Sazaar.”

Sazaar stared, surprised and moved at him protecting her.

Nodding, the girl crabbed away from him. He followed, his body darting from side to side, mimicking her movements perfectly. Still, she retreated, straight into the wall. She glanced at it, then back.

Too late.

Grabbing her hair, Andris hurled her across the room. Arms and legs thrashing, the girl’s body sailed above the others, landing with a loud thud near her friend. Chastised, they huddled together, licking their wounds. Within seconds, their torn flesh healed, leaving no scars or bruises. The ponytailed barista kissed her friend’s cheek, then sought her mouth. They necked as the others continued to feed.

Andris glided to Sazaar, his feet not touching the floor. “Drink,” he said, gesturing to the pool of blood.

At his kindness, her eyes filled with tears. She lifted her hand to him and begged, “Join me. Take all of it.”