roared, drowning out all sound. The room froze, the music becoming glaringly loud within the absence of sound. Then a slender blonde mimicked his leap and gained the bar top. She ripped her shirt apart and exposed her tits, shaking them with wild abandon and screaming, “Fuck yeah!”
The crowd ignited into a frenzied mass. Drunk on endorphins, they resumed their carnal excess, the pounding bass of the music spurring them like a war drum.
Elijah vaulted up to the second-floor balcony, hunting his vampress.
Vash entered the third-floor VIP lounge and scanned the room’s occupants with a sweeping glance. She was searching for something in particular and she found him. He was long and lean. Blond. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his lounging pose was insolence personified. His chest and feet were bare; his skin was pale and smooth. The antithesis of Elijah. But best of allwere the piercings riddling his body—his ears, brows, nose, lips, nipples, navel…She was certain there would be more in places she couldn’t yet see. And the carvings in his skin. Intricate designs that had been sliced by a skilled blade and prevented from healing by application of silver-laced cream or shavings.
The man enjoyed pain. Sought it out deliberately and found beauty in it. And she wanted to inflict pain on someone who could take it and wanted it. Because she hurt and was infuriated by that hurt. Because she’d pushed her way through dozens of beautiful, desirable male bodies to reach the lounge, and none of them had moved her or stirred the hunger simmering in her blood. Because she was dead to every male just as she’d been ever since the day Charron died…every male but one.
“You.” She beckoned her quarry with a crook of her finger.
He straightened with a slow, sensual smile and came to her with a leisurely, confident stride. Reaching her, he took her in from head to toe with a covetous glance, then licked his lower lip. “I was beginning to think you’d never come for me.”
Bored already, she raised her brows. “Oh?”
Tilting his head, he exposed his neck…and the tattoo that was written there with silver-tainted ink: VASHTI, BITE HERE .
A shiver moved through her at the craziness of the act. They’d never met, yet he’d marked himself as her property.
Of all the men to meet her criteria for the night, shehad to pick a groupie, one of the far-too-many minions who were aroused by the thought of being a blood slave to one of the Fallen.
She almost waved him away—there was enough crazy in her life as it was. Then she heard Elijah’s roar, felt it vibrate through walls and rattle the bloodstained glasses on the tables. The fierceness of the desire that shot through her made her sway on her feet, as if she was hardwired to answer that dominant call. She didn’t have time to be discerning. She needed blood to manage her desire for Elijah and she needed it
now
.
Knowing she had maybe five minutes at most before the lycan worked his way through the crush of bodies on the stairs to get to the third floor, Vash shoved the vamp into a chair and circled him, grabbing his jaw from behind and yanking it out of the way to expose his neck. She’d prefer his wrist, to keep it impersonal, but she needed to be quick and nothing beat an arterial gush for speed.
Her fangs descended, her gaze riveted to the thick pumping vein at his throat. As her stomach gnawed in hunger and dizziness swept through her from the need to feed, the lounge door was ripped off its hinges and thrown over the balcony into the teeming mass of vampires below. Elijah filled the threshold, his body big, hard, and virile. His irises glowed in the shadows cast by the muted wall sconces.
“Mine.”
Just the one word, spoken low and terrifyingly deep, as if ripped from the beast inside him instead of from his human throat.
Something warm and slightly twisted slid sinuouslyinside her, some alien feeling of…pleasure that such a magnificently masculine creature
The crowd ignited into a frenzied mass. Drunk on endorphins, they resumed their carnal excess, the pounding bass of the music spurring them like a war drum.
Elijah vaulted up to the second-floor balcony, hunting his vampress.
Vash entered the third-floor VIP lounge and scanned the room’s occupants with a sweeping glance. She was searching for something in particular and she found him. He was long and lean. Blond. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his lounging pose was insolence personified. His chest and feet were bare; his skin was pale and smooth. The antithesis of Elijah. But best of allwere the piercings riddling his body—his ears, brows, nose, lips, nipples, navel…She was certain there would be more in places she couldn’t yet see. And the carvings in his skin. Intricate designs that had been sliced by a skilled blade and prevented from healing by application of silver-laced cream or shavings.
The man enjoyed pain. Sought it out deliberately and found beauty in it. And she wanted to inflict pain on someone who could take it and wanted it. Because she hurt and was infuriated by that hurt. Because she’d pushed her way through dozens of beautiful, desirable male bodies to reach the lounge, and none of them had moved her or stirred the hunger simmering in her blood. Because she was dead to every male just as she’d been ever since the day Charron died…every male but one.
“You.” She beckoned her quarry with a crook of her finger.
He straightened with a slow, sensual smile and came to her with a leisurely, confident stride. Reaching her, he took her in from head to toe with a covetous glance, then licked his lower lip. “I was beginning to think you’d never come for me.”
Bored already, she raised her brows. “Oh?”
Tilting his head, he exposed his neck…and the tattoo that was written there with silver-tainted ink: VASHTI, BITE HERE .
A shiver moved through her at the craziness of the act. They’d never met, yet he’d marked himself as her property.
Of all the men to meet her criteria for the night, shehad to pick a groupie, one of the far-too-many minions who were aroused by the thought of being a blood slave to one of the Fallen.
She almost waved him away—there was enough crazy in her life as it was. Then she heard Elijah’s roar, felt it vibrate through walls and rattle the bloodstained glasses on the tables. The fierceness of the desire that shot through her made her sway on her feet, as if she was hardwired to answer that dominant call. She didn’t have time to be discerning. She needed blood to manage her desire for Elijah and she needed it
now
.
Knowing she had maybe five minutes at most before the lycan worked his way through the crush of bodies on the stairs to get to the third floor, Vash shoved the vamp into a chair and circled him, grabbing his jaw from behind and yanking it out of the way to expose his neck. She’d prefer his wrist, to keep it impersonal, but she needed to be quick and nothing beat an arterial gush for speed.
Her fangs descended, her gaze riveted to the thick pumping vein at his throat. As her stomach gnawed in hunger and dizziness swept through her from the need to feed, the lounge door was ripped off its hinges and thrown over the balcony into the teeming mass of vampires below. Elijah filled the threshold, his body big, hard, and virile. His irises glowed in the shadows cast by the muted wall sconces.
“Mine.”
Just the one word, spoken low and terrifyingly deep, as if ripped from the beast inside him instead of from his human throat.
Something warm and slightly twisted slid sinuouslyinside her, some alien feeling of…pleasure that such a magnificently masculine creature
Similar Books
