Pure Ecstasy Page 6

  “What do you have for me?” the male said quietly, diving straight into business.

  Ana was more than a little insulted that he hadn’t returned her appreciative, lingering perusal of his long, leanly muscular form.

  On purpose, just to make him pay attention to her, she stayed silent and kept staring, until he finally turned his head towards her and stared back.

  She arched an elegant sable brow.

  A corner of his wide mouth reluctantly quirked.

  “Should I have started with niceties?”

  “A ten-minute French kiss to show that you’ve missed me would have been well received,” she purred, letting the Slav in her curl the edges of her words.

  “I don’t know you well enough for that, sweetheart,” he returned just as casually.

  Sweetheart.

  She wondered how often he threw out those harmless endearments. He probably used them with human women whose faces and names he wouldn’t recall once he’d gotten what he wanted from them.

  Oh, but if he ever had a taste of Ana, he’d never forget.

  He might as well carve her name into his flesh right then and there. Because she determined at that moment that she was going to make sure he never forgot her.

  She elevated both eyebrows this time and proposed insouciantly, “I’d be happy to deepen our acquaintance, human. Twelve hours of nonstop, mind-blowing orgy should cure you of your reservations. You place or mine?”

  She watched in fascination as his jaw flexed hypnotically as if he were biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at her.

  But she was dead serious.

  Since the first time she met him, she’d wanted to jump this man’s bones. Preferably while gorging on his blood at the same time.

  Her attraction didn’t usually veer toward the weakest of all the races on earth. The few times she’d taken human males she’d almost broken them.

  But she had a feeling he was stronger than most. He’d survive a few rough rides—he might even enjoy them.

  He shook his head in denial of her suggestion, but his rejection was softened by the glimmer of amusement in his heavily lashed dark eyes.

  Ana heaved an exaggerated sigh and turned to face the waterfront, presenting him with her flawless profile.

  “Your loss.”

  In a split second, her mood turned all business.

  “We have not been able to ascertain the traitors behind the assassination attempt,” she reported in her low voice.

  “We have leads, but none too solid. You should know that your Pure Ones’ Consul has been invited to a private congregation of select Dark nobles and a small quorum of Pure Ones, hosted by Goran Ivanov. Ivanov is a well-known Pure sympathizer and staunch supporter of Jade’s rule. Our estimation is that he wants to make the implicit truce between our races more explicit.”

  “You think he’s making a mistake,” the human deduced from the tone of her voice.

  “He’ll get himself killed if he’s not careful,” Ana growled. “There are many more powerful Dark nobles who are against him than with him.”

  “Are they gaining ground against your queen?”

  She looked him straight in the eyes for long moments, as if assessing whether or not to trust him with the truth.

  “Yes,” she finally uttered. “I expect the actions against her will escalate in violence until we bring down the ultimate mastermind behind all this.”

  “Do you believe Medusa is the real threat?”

  “Perhaps,” Ana considered, turning back to the water.

  “Perhaps not. She could simply be taking advantage of the unrest among the Dark nobles that has been brewing for years. Hell, decades even. She may not be the ultimate instigator. She could even be a pawn herself in this ongoing struggle for power.”

  “But she would have a lot to gain if she were to take over Jade’s reign,” the human surmised.

  “True,” Ana confirmed. “But the nobles are not easy to rule, and our Enforcers follow Jade steadfastly. We Chosen as well. Medusa would only have a venomous pit of vipers on her hands.”

  “Which she could stir into a wilder, more violent frenzy against Pure Ones and the broader human population,” the male added, “which seems to be her forte.”

  Ana turned to him again in consideration.

  After a long pause she said, “You should warn the Consul to be on guard. Any perceived ally of ours right now is targeted as an enemy.”

  “Noted,” he replied. “What can we do to help?”

  She shot up a single brow again, her half-teasing, half-dangerously predatory expression now intimately familiar to him.

  Before she could open her mouth, he inserted, “Besides the standing invitation to scratch your personal itch.”

  A brief, beatific grin spread her mouth before she seriously replied, “The Commander could use some assistance with human law enforcement and investigative agencies. Fight clubs are causing too many questions that we can’t answer, and the ‘vampire killers’ are still a threat. Recent intel makes us believe that human covert military agencies have gotten a hold of the designs, whether inadvertently or purposely as part of Medusa’s schemes, we cannot confirm. We could use some eyes and ears on the inside to contain the situation.”

  Ana referred to a special kind of heat-seeking bullets developed specifically to take down vampires. Up to this point, only other immortal races had a chance of killing Dark Ones, given their strength, speed, power and accelerated healing abilities, a source of their eternal youth and longevity.

  But with this new technology, humans could very well wipe out the entire vampire race should they choose to. The continued secrecy of the races had never been as paramount.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” the male nodded once.

  Ana assessed him, this time with respect and understanding in her gaze.

  He was a male of strength and integrity, fully capable of holding his own against several vampires, as she’d seen with her own eyes the first time they’d crossed each other’s paths. Despite his human frailty, she’d never make the mistake of underestimating him.

  As a warrior, he was her equal.

  She curled her lips in a sensuous smile.

  “Always a pleasure, human,” she tossed over her shoulder as she turned to leave.

  “The name’s Morgan.”

  She tilted her head back to look at him.

  “Adam Morgan.”

  Adam.

  She liked his name. It suited him. Solid, masculine, unspoiled. The name of the first man, according to humans’ Abrahamic religions.

  If he was the first man, then she might as well be the snake in the garden. She wanted to be the one to tempt him to sin.

  What a strange fixation she had for a fragile human male, Ana thought to herself, but giving him a slow head-to-toe once over before she turned to walk away, she argued internally that no one could ever fault her taste in masculine attractions.

  “I want it back,” he called after her as she walked lithely away.

  She knew exactly what he referred to and smiled.

  “You know where to come and get it, human.”

  And with that, Ana disappeared into the night like the hardcore warrior badass she was.

  *** *** *** ***

  As the first rays of dawn began to filter through the floor-to-ceiling starburst windows in Jade’s private chambers behind the throne room, she sat on the thick, cushioned benches that ran along half of her room at the foot of that glistening, tinted glass, that turned entirely opaque with the sun’s light upon them.

  No heavy drapes to block out the daylight and enclose her chambers entirely in blackness. The tinted windows performed that role exceedingly well, even though she could still look out of them and clearly see NYC come awake each day, just through the lens of darkness as if it were night outside.

  When Seth was still here, as she’d become increasingly addicted to his powerful Pure blood, her sleeping cycles had changed. S
he’d been able to stay fully awake during the day and rested only briefly at night.

  How she’d missed the sun.

  The way its warm rays caressed her skin, the way it shot rainbows through clouds and raindrops. The way it infused the air with heat and brightness, nourishing the soul and uplifting the spirit.

  Jade inhaled deeply now, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen into her lungs.

  Something was fundamentally missing in the very air she breathed.

  She did not delude herself as to the source of her suffocation.

  More than anything, she missed the male who had become like the sun to her.

  Jade turned away from the windows.

  In the pitch dark, her vampire eyes saw everything clearly, and she made her way to her platform bed, crawled inside the covers and curled into a small ball, wrapping her body around a large pillow.

  Three years without the sexual energy she needed to maintain her strength and powers. Three years of tepid human blood.

  She’d been such a fool to think she could conquer him. To somehow make him stay with her. She’d been such an idiot to think that she could win over such a male with her charms and wiles.

  Falling into an exhausted sleep, Jade unconsciously shed the tears she would never release while awake.

  3 years ago.

  Seth awoke with the sun’s slow inching over the horizon, cascading a glow of orange, yellow and pink over the City below.

  Jade was wrapped around his body as usual, her dewy sex open over the root of his erection, one slim thigh thrown over his hip, one arm wrapped around his shoulder with her hand tangled in his hair, her torso pressed tightly to his, her generous breasts flattened against his hard chest.

  He’d been possessive of her too, in slumber.

  One large hand cupped her firm, lusciously rounded bottom, while the other held the thigh that was thrown over his hip, as if to keep it there. As if to hold her core over his aching arousal, which made the throbbing pain in his staff both better and much, much worse.

  Goddess above, he didn’t know how much longer he could resist her.

  It wasn’t about pride and will any more.

  It wasn’t about being a Blood Slave but not a whore.

  Seth feared he was too far gone for any of that.

  For, over the past six months of his contract with the vampire queen, he’d stupidly and irrevocably fallen in love with her.

  He’d watched her carefully during waking hours, most of the time standing beside her as she presided over her court. He watched her reign with a velvet fist and steely, unshakable resolve. She balanced ever gracefully on the tightrope of politics and intrigue, ruthlessly subdued plots to weaken her rule, unflinchingly punished Rogues who broke the laws.

  She didn’t hide anything from him, shared all the intelligence her Chosen gathered whether or not it seemed pertinent to the Pure Ones. She allowed him to speak his mind and offer his opinions, and she often took his advice and thanked him for it.

  He supposed she allowed him to view the inner workings of her court because he was not a real threat to her—she could have him executed or just as easily drain the life from him herself.

  But somehow he didn’t think that was the reason for her openness. She was truly interested in what he thought.

  How he felt, however, was an entirely different matter. She seemed determined to shut out all feelings, save only the superficial ones like lust and desire.

  And yet, he couldn’t keep his own feelings from deepening.

  Every day, he loved her more.

  It was the little things that made him love her.

  The way she tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, especially when she felt self-conscious.

  Which wasn’t very often. But each time he’d seen the action, he had been the one to cause it. Despite her brashness and confidence, he could tell that he made her shy.

  She often dressed to impress, and took care to emphasize her beauty like an armor she donned in front of others. But when she was with him privately, she dressed or undressed, as the case might be, to impress him.

  It was the fact that she was insecure about her small ears.

  Because during her human life in ancient China, large ears had been considered a mark of good fortune and beauty, and small ears their opposite. To make her small ears less conspicuous, she usually hid them behind her hair or adorned them with large, flamboyant earrings.

  It was her ability to spout quotations from old movies at the drop of a hat, and often sang show tunes in the bath or shower when she thought no one was listening. She had a great singing voice, actually, a sultry contralto that was clear and strong on the high notes, deep and husky on the lows.

  It was the way she snuggled into his body when they slept, her soft womanly curves wrapped tightly around him. The way she always kissed the dimple in his chin before settling in. And the way she sighed with contentment right before falling into a deep sleep, as if his presence beside her made her world complete.

  And then there was the way she taunted and teased him.

  The way she discovered all the secrets of his body, one after the other, and bared her fangs at him in a triumphant smile every time she did it, like an eager child who found the sweetest treat.

  The way she feathered light caresses over the least likely places and turned them into roaring hot erogenous zones he never knew he had.

  The way she growled deeply in the back of her throat whenever she hungered for his blood.

  The sharp pleasure of her penetration when she sank her teeth into the vein of her choice.

  Every vein.

  Everywhere on his body.

  The things she whispered in his ear that she wanted to do to him but didn’t do. No matter where they were, or who they were with.

  Then grin at him impishly when he shot her a cease and desist glare, not at all chastised for her naughty behavior.

  One small thing after another strung together like invisible beads, that wove into an indefinable, infinitely beautiful tapestry, which held him forever in its thrall.

  He was certain that she hadn’t an inkling the direction his wayward heart had taken.

  He himself didn’t know what to make of it, what to do about it. He only knew that he’d fought against loving her and lost miserably.

  It wasn’t like the calm, soothing love he’d felt for his human wife. This was nothing like that easygoing, peaceful love.

  What he felt now was intense, all-consuming and greedy.

  It was angry, confusing, dark and torturous.

  It was ravaging and possessive and obsessive.

  He seemed to turn into an entirely different male when he was with her, his emotions chaotic, blazing and uncontrollable.

  Was it really love, he’d often questioned himself, if it felt so raw and abusive?

  And yet, he couldn’t deny the instinct to offer up everything he had to her, let her inside of him, see every part of him, the good, the bad, the ugly—even if she never felt the same.

  In his past life, he’d always held something back. There were places inside of him he’d never allowed anyone access to, including his wife.

  But now…

  With Jade…

  He was carved open and bleeding, as surely as if he’d been drawn and quartered and laid in all his naked, vulnerable pieces before her.

  There was nowhere to hide. No holding back.

  And no stuffing his heart back into his body once it had leapt out of its cage and hurled itself at the female whose sole ownership it recognized.

  He couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, just that over time, the pain inside of him whenever she touched and teased him carelessly, as if he were merely a toy that amused her—the pain had cut deeper, sharper, crueler each and every time.

  It seemed she cared at least something for his feelings, for she’d not called for her harem for several weeks now. Though she’d promised him that there h
ad been no penetration, no male had come inside her since the start of their contract, he couldn’t hide the anguish of seeing her with them, seeing them touch her, kiss her, giving her pleasure that should have been only his right to give her.

  But of course, he had no right to her at all.

  He never had.

  Their bargain from the beginning was clear: her temporary alliance for his blood.

  Feelings were never part of the equation.

  Nor his dignity, his peace and his sanity.

  At least this was their last day together. At the end of this night, his contract would be fulfilled.

  She shifted sleepily against him and nuzzled his throat, swiping the vein at his jugular with two lazy licks before sinking her fangs into it as if it were the most natural thing to do—a female nursing at her beloved’s vein first thing in the morning to start her day.

  Seth turned toward her to give her better access, swallowing the lump in his throat as she mewled in contentment as she fed.

  He was not her beloved. She was not his female.

  He was her Blood Slave, and she was simply using him to satisfy her needs.

  It hurt everywhere, down to his very soul, that she did this to him, even though he yearned to give her everything he had of his own free will.

  The hand that was in his hair slid down his neck, shoulder and chest, glancing his ribs and the ridges of his abdomen to curl around his hip and grasp his swollen sex. Urgently, she squeezed him, in time with her deepening pulls upon his vein.

  He stayed her movements with his hand over hers.

  The pain was too much. His skin was too tight. His heart was too full.

  He couldn’t stand to be used this way anymore. One of the countless faceless males who came into and out of her life to provide fleeting moments of mindless pleasure.

  She twisted easily out of his hold and pumped her fist up and down his erection, spreading his moisture along the turgid length.

  He caught her hand again and held it still in his, though she refused to release her favorite toy.

  “Don’t,” he rasped, and though he tried to contain it, the whispered word still escaped—

  “Hurts.”

  Leisurely, she pulled out of his throat and licked the puncture wounds closed.