Page 32 of Fated In Blood (Nocturne Vampire Clan #1)

32

EVANGELINE

O ne thing became crystal clear on my run back to Crimson House.

This was definitely an ‘every vampire for themselves’ situation.

Riordan might be feeding me, but only because he was planning on using me in his vendetta against Tyrell, though after what I’d just witnessed, I could hardly blame him.

The Silverwood family had an adage about war. Use every weapon at your disposal ruthlessly, without care to what will happen in the aftermath, because surviving the next battle was your only objective. That had been my Uncle Alistair, a brute of a man with little use for words or emotions.

But goddamn, he’d been good with his fists, hammering lessons into me like I was a block of soft wood and his instructions steel nails, driving them in so deep the knowledge was part of me now.

Besides, I’d been trapped in a situation like this before, for the first sixteen years of my life, and while this mess wasn’t shaping up to be any better, being a valuable commodity bought me some leverage, and leverage spent every bit as well as cold, hard cash.

Riordan and Blake needed me.

They might despise me, mock me, and look down on me, but they needed me.

Unfortunately, I needed them right back.

I paused when Crimson House came into sight, my hand pressed to my empty, aching belly. I was starving again, despising this hollowed-out feeling because it meant things other than hunger.

This feeling meant dependency and helplessness, weaknesses that made me vulnerable.

I crossed beneath the plain, ramshackle gates, then walked slowly up the drive, taking in the expanse of the rambling building for the first time.

A big, rectangular box of gloom, as if the watery sunlight didn’t want to touch those dark stone walls and arched windows. This place could have been beautiful, but even the ivy crawling up the walls was mottled and sickly, the ancient, gnarled trees barely leafed out even though April was a few days away.

A muffled scream cut through the air like a gunshot.

Male. In pain. Blake .

Before I realized I’d moved, I was running, ripping the front doors wide open, another scream echoing down the hallway as I took off. I slid to a stop in a cluttered, darkened office, where some hooded stranger sent a wash of silvery light over a bloodied, battered Blake prone on the floor, eyes rolling back in his head. The light fragmented into fissures of energy, the air ripe with ozone.

The hair on my arms stood up as bolts of electricity slammed into me, stinging like a swarm of wasps.

Blake kept screaming, neck corded from the strain, hands clawing at the floor, the heels of his boots beating against the stone, loud as gunshots.

“Get the fuck off him.” The growl that came out of my mouth was animalistic, and I shoved the cloaked attacker backward, silver light pulsing wildly as he toppled. Uncontrolled magic skated over my skin, cold biting at my windburned face like it had teeth.

“Touch him again and I’ll kill you.” I didn’t know why I was acting like this, didn’t fucking care what happened to Blake fucking Marten, but here I was, unable to control this primitive need to protect him.

The silver light wound around me like ropes, pinning down my arms and binding my legs together.

“Settle down, little slayer,” Blake hissed through grit teeth. “Sylvester’s not here to kill me. That honor is still yours.”

“What’s…he…doing?”

“Healing Blake, before you burst in here.” Riordan stepped through the doorway in the solid, paneled wall, wiping his hands on a red-stained towel. “Now let him finish, because we have work to do and not a fucking lot of time.”

Ever so slowly, Sylvester’s magic oozed back to him like syrupy moonlight, then I was free to watch him lay a blanket of glowing energy over Blake, whose face contorted into a pained grimace the second that glow touched his body.

He was an oozing mass of wounds, burns, and bruises, which I could only assume were far better than they’d been before Sylvester began working.

“Don’t look so fucking concerned, Slayer. You’re a Silverwood. You are my enemy, and you always will be.” But I couldn’t help but notice the faint hint of sorrow in his words, as if he wished that weren’t so.

“Enemies forever. We should get t-shirts made.” I winced, not believing I’d just fucking thrown myself at Sylvester and totally humiliated myself. “The backs could say Vampires Suck Ass. But I guess since I’m one of you now, I’d better come up with something else.”

What the fuck was wrong with me? I hated Blake Marten. Just because we’d had mind-blowing, life-changing sex didn’t mean we’d forged some kind of special bond between us. In fact, our first time would be our last time.

Blake had made his choice clear, and I understood his reasons.

My family was every bit as bad as Tyrell. Worse, in some ways, because while Tyrell made no excuse for being unabashedly evil, my family acted unbelievably sanctimonious, while that same insatiable greed for blood and power festered underneath.

I couldn’t stop comparing them, even though they couldn’t be further apart.

Our legacy, their end .

I wondered if the Silverwoods ever thought about what they’d become if vampires ceased to exist.

We depended on vampires like they depended on blood to survive. Our entire identity was forged around our hatred of the species, our singular goal to wipe them out. And if we ever succeeded, would we just…fade into history?

Or would we find another species to turn our hatred toward?

“Silver?” Riordan stood right in front of me, hand extended, a quizzical expression on his face. “Come on. You’re hungry. As soon as Blake heals, you start your training. You won’t make it far on an empty stomach.”

“He was practically dead five minutes ago.” I forced myself not to look over at the bastard. But I failed, my chest tightening when his body arced up off the floor, hands clenched into fists. “You can’t expect him—us—to train today.”

“I not only expect it, I’ll compel you if I must. We have run out of time,” he said simply, his hand closing around mine. “None of us have a choice any longer, and I will do anything to stop Tyrell before he burns this kingdom to the ground.” His voice dropped as he paused to take a last look at Blake.

“ Anything , Silver, do you understand?.”

“Well, it’s comforting to know you have a code of honor. Too bad your vaunted nobility doesn’t extend to me.”

“If it makes you feel better, I never would have involved you in this in the first place. But you do make a very convenient weapon.” He paused when we reached the midpoint of the hallway, hesitated, then pulled me into the closest room.

He dropped my hand the moment we were through the door, but his goddamned addictive scent made me follow, my fangs sinking into my bottom lip, breaths coming fast as I held myself back from tackling him and taking what I needed.

Was I addicted to him now?

Was this never-ending craving part of the whole vampires drink blood thing?

It wasn’t like I could compare notes with anyone, nor was Riordan especially forthcoming with information, other than I was key to his plan in killing Tyrell. But the more blood I drank, the more I wanted.

And since I was used to being in control at all times, this overwhelming need was something I couldn’t shut down with logic.

I could barely think around the roaring inside my head.

My entire being burned for what came next, raw hunger peeling away everything remotely civilized. I wanted Riordan, plain and simple. I coveted his blood, and once I took that first mouthful, I’d want other things, too.

Everything about this was grotesque, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“How do you plan to take down Tyrell?” I asked, trying to divert all this churning frustration into something more…useful. He wouldn’t answer, but asking never hurt, and often people gave away more than they meant to through their lies.

“Carefully, now that Collum’s in the picture.” He let me go and crossed to the only piece of furniture in here, a huge, overstuffed leather chair sitting on a rug in the center of the room. With the fancy carved trim, it looked completely out of place among the dust and moth-eaten draperies.

“Blake will evaluate your skill level, and once we know what your capabilities are, we’ll know how we can best leverage your expertise.”

“It would help if I knew what expertise you were looking for. So I could, you know, prepare?”

The bastard sat down, legs spread, and leaned forward, hands clasped together. “This works better if you don’t know, Silver. Show us what you’ve got, and we’ll decide how to best use you.”

“Use me?” The breathless words tripped over themselves, another burst of heat igniting between my legs. A wild image came to mind—me pinned between the two of them as they sucked and bit, hands everywhere, fingers plunging…

Riordan’s head tipped to the side slowly, eyes narrowing as if he couldn’t look away.

“Yes.” His voice was so soft I strained to hear. “ Use you , Silver. Do you want us to use you?” His smile was faint. “Because if that’s what you want, I’ll give you more than just my blood this time.”

Fucking hell, I was going to implode from just the rough timber of his voice, unless he was using more of that spooky vampire voodoo magic on me?

“No magic, just attraction. Vampire attraction,” he clarified, still looking at me with his head cocked to the side. “Blood and sex go together for our kind. A sort of symbiotic relationship. Sometimes it’s hard to separate them, especially for a newborn vampire like you.”

Maybe that’s why the chair was here .

To keep me from getting too far out of control.

His smile was barely even a smile. “No, the chair is for another reason altogether. Now come here.” My feet jerked into action, propelling me across the floor. I lost my tennis shoes somewhere between the door and the chair.

“Stop doing that. If you want me over there, just ask.” I stopped between his spread thighs, his fingers inches from brushing my privates. All planned, I was sure.

“You’re too busy fighting with yourself to just walk over here . Too busy weighing whether or not you want this, whether you can fight the compulsion for a few more minutes to prove to yourself your willpower is stronger than instinct.” He reached out and ran his finger up my abdomen, then along the zipper of Mom’s jacket.

My nerves jittered, fangs digging into my bottom lip, deep enough to cut.

“For the record, Silver, try as you might, you can’t override instinct. Many have tried and failed. I wish I had time to walk you through your transition and make this easy for you. You deserve that, at least. But our world is cruel, and you have to be strong to face what’s coming. I can’t afford to coddle you.”

“I’ve never been coddled in my life.”

“Too bad.” He grasped the zipper pull with two fingers and began to tug. “I would very, very much like to coddle you.” The zipper went down and down and down, my eyes following the descent, noticing how powerful his hand was, how I was caged in between his strong thighs.

“I’m just here to feed.” God, my voice was shaking, fingers curling against my sweaty palms so I didn’t reach out and touch him. “That’s all.”

“Shame, though, to waste an opportunity like this.” His teasing words kicked up my heart rate, the cool air hitting my sweaty chest sending goose pimples rising. Or maybe that was from how greedily his eyes tracked down my body, fangs on full display, mouth parted slightly as if he was drinking in my scent.

Even sitting down, Riordan overwhelmed in every way.

His scent, his size, his power—everything reminded me of his hold over me.

“I’ve never seen a jacket like this. It looks old.”

“This was my mom’s favorite.” The confession slipped out of me easier than I’d imagined, a secret I’d never told anyone before. “And the only thing I have left of her.”

“ Freedom .” His gentle whisper grazed over old memories and my eyes prickled with tears. “I think that particular sentiment suits you perfectly.”

No false sympathy, no more questions, and somehow, the fact he knew not to push me right now seemed more intimate than how familiarly he touched me.

“Blake almost died because we went back to Valentine’s for the jacket.” I had no idea why I was telling him this, why it mattered, but I couldn’t stop. “This is all I have left of her, and I couldn’t leave it behind. Especially not there .”

“I understand. Blake does, too.” He blew out a long breath. “Tyrell would have caught up with Blake sooner or later. If you’re blaming yourself for what happened, don’t.”

“Blake hates my guts, and you’re just tolerating me until Tyrell’s dead.” I really had to stop talking right now. I’d hoped to uncover all of Riordan’s secrets, and instead…I was revealing all of mine.

“Rohr,” he murmured. “Call me Rohr. We’ll be stuck together for a few weeks, and I hate that name. My father gave it to me.” The zipper stopped and his hand traced back up my body, fingertips barely skimming my skin.

Too light, that touch, too promising.

Filled with control on the verge of snapping.

“Slip off that jacket and sit in my lap. Let me feed you, and we’ll see where this goes. You want sex, I’ll give you sex. If all you want is my blood, you can stop this there and we won’t go any further. But I have to say…you’re beginning to fascinate me, Silver.”

Another wave of tortuous heat prickled down my spine, settling between my already damp thighs. A needy little ache roared to life, stealing what little self-control I had left.

Every word was bullshit, of course.

Lies, to get me to trust him, to fall in line with whatever their plan was.

But there was something astonishing about a powerful male stroking his fingers down your body while you drowned in his scent. Something that had my body softening and turned rational thoughts to forbidden fantasies of lips and fangs and naked bodies moving together in tandem.

“Come here, Silver. Sit down.”

The jacket slipped off my shoulders, hitting the floor with a thud.

I wanted to blame Riordan for my obedience, but my body moved of its own accord, until my hands slid over his shoulders and I straddled one thick, powerful thigh, moaning when my pussy ground against those tensed muscles. His throat was beneath my lips, and I couldn’t help myself. I ran my tongue over his corded muscles, tasting and teasing, my hips surging back and forth.

“Strike hard. No hesitation. Five pulls, then lick me closed and take a break. Let the blood settle into your system, then we’ll go again. Can you do that?”

I was already delirious from the taste of his skin, my tongue coated in his pure masculine power, and I couldn’t get enough.

Yes, I was starving, but…I wanted so much more than his blood.

I wanted everything from him. Everything . None of this was logical, nothing made sense, not in my head. But my frenzied instincts drove me to sink my fangs deep, hard and true. His hands cupped my ass when I pulled in my first mouthful, warm, rich blood flooding my mouth, my senses, sending sparks flying along my synapses like lightning.

Gasping, I pulled away to look at the marks on his throat, the ones I’d made. Fire ignited at the sight, sending a possessive shiver straight through me, and I pressed him tighter against the back of the chair.

“That’s one.” He yanked me down and bit my earlobe, teeth catching and clamping down as I stifled a needy moan.

Only four more. I had to take my time. Had to make this last.

I dove for the blood welling up out of the punctures, making sure my next pull was slow, deliberate, deep. He groaned, an animalistic sound that stoked the flames burning in my already sensitive core, his fingers digging into my ass as I churned against him, trying to find some relief from this building pressure.

Two . That was his voice in my head, and I tried to slow down, but I couldn’t, drawing in another mouthful, then another.

I was coming apart, rubbing my soaked pussy against him, and it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. My tongue laved over the punctures, then I struck again, just to feel him jerk against me, just to know he was at my mercy . I need to orgasm so bad, but I can’t get enough friction, not with all these clothes between us.

I need more. I can’t come like this.

Five, six, seven. Too much, yet I pulled in mouthful after mouthful of blood, eyes rolling back in my head from the decadent richness of him. I was taking too much, far past my limit, but every gulp was better than the first, heady waves of pleasure coursing through me.

Hang on, I’ve got you, Silver. Don’t you dare swallow until I tell you to.

He flicked open the button on my jeans, yanked down the zipper, then his fingers dragged through my wet folds, his throat vibrating beneath my lips as he growled. What do you want? Hard and fast, or gentle?

Do I look like I want gentle? I dug my nails into his shoulders enough to hurt, and he drove his fingers up into me, deep and sure, stretching me, stroking me, my mouth still fastened to his neck, unable to swallow, held there by his command and the friction from those fucking fingers plunging in and out of me.

Then his thumb rubbed across my clit and I lost my mind, my hips moving in time to every deep stroke, everything narrowing down to Riordan.

His hands, his blood, the taste of him in my mouth.

I hated him for that. But I couldn’t stop myself either, especially as his finger rimmed my entrance then plunged in deep. I gasped and blood poured out around my mouth. I lapped up every drop then fastened my lips around the bite, hanging on for dear life as pleasure turned my bones to jelly.

Seal me closed. I need to be inside you. Right fucking now, Silver.

I dragged my flattened tongue up his throat, fingers tangled in his hair as he laid me on the rug, shoving my jeans down to my ankles. I should tell him no, I should stop this while I could still walk away with a modicum of pride, but instead, I widened my thighs to give him better access, toeing my jeans off the rest of the way.

“Fuck, you smell…” Riordan plunged his fingers in deep, fastening his mouth to the side of my throat, and I was swept away again in another wave of ecstasy.

He tore his mouth off my throat and rolled away, up on his feet before I could even blink, his tongue working between the fingers that had just been inside me, a low, feral growl rumbling in his chest.

He’d already unbuttoned his shirt, dragging his dark eyes slowly down my body, his hand pausing on his belt. “I need to know you’re on board with this.” His eyes never left my face. “I need to hear you say it, Silver.”

This was my chance to walk away, the chance he was giving me . And the choice should have been easy. But somehow, the weight of that choice stole my breath away. I could stop this right here. I should stop this, leaving with my dignity intact.

“Yes, I want you to fuck me, Riordan.”

I watched every minuscule movement of his powerful hands as he undid his belt and dropped his pants. I didn’t get to look at Blake. No, that experience was a blur of sensation and bliss and blood. But now…now I looked to my heart’s content as Riordan shrugged off his dress shirt.

I’d expected a king’s body, lean but soft, but what I saw instead…Beneath the sedate tailored suits and silk ties, Riordan was hiding a masterpiece. His wide, strong chest was covered in intertwined tattoos, bold markings slipping over arms packed with muscle, down thick, powerful thighs flexing below a sculpted abdomen and a narrow waist with a thin line of dark hair leading to his heavy cock.

There wasn’t an ounce of softness to him, and I lost my breath as he dropped over me, caging me between those powerful arms. Then his mouth crashed down on mine in a wild, punishing kiss, our tongues tangling together, his lips claiming mine relentlessly until he broke away with a snarling groan, eyes burning when he searched my face.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” I moaned, fingernails sinking deep into his shoulders as he pressed the head of his cock against my soaking wet entrance, one hand dropping to my hip to hold me in place as he worked his way in a little at a time. This was…this was fucking too much. Too much, and I still wanted more, pleasure building until the pressure was almost too much.

I bit my lip, blood welling, and he fell on my mouth like a starving male, licking and sucking, his tongue sweeping over the mark again and again.

When he pulled back…I stopped breathing.

His eyes were on fire. Flames flickered in the depths of his gaze, devouring every bit of the dark blue until all I saw was white—the same cold, biting color of his magic.

“Fuck, you feel too damn good.” Short spurts of breath interjected every word. He used brutal, shallow strokes to gain an inch, then another, stretching me with every hard-fought thrust. I could hardly think around this delicious fullness that felt so foreign, yet I craved so desperately.

“More, Riordan.” The plea spilled out, and I tried to raise my hips to meet his thrusts, but he wouldn’t let me move, wouldn’t let me rush him as he carefully sheathed himself inside me until our hips were flush, both of us covered in a sheen of sweat.

Our breath mingled, pleasure coiling through me in waves from this delicious pressure of holding all of him inside me. Everything was building to a crescendo, and neither of us were even moving yet, our bodies flush, hearts beating in tandem.

My eyes fluttered open to find Riordan staring down at me, then he framed my face between his hands. “Silver, I need to know. You’re so tight…is this your first time?” He looked so concerned my heart skipped a beat before I shook my head.

“No, not my first time.” Not a lie, but he frowned. I dragged my nails lightly down his muscled back, scraping across his skin before I wound my legs around his waist and settled my heels into the sip of his spine, right above his ass. He withdrew then slid back in, a long, gliding stroke that hit some spot deep inside me and sent my eyes rolling back in my head.

“Oh God, that was…Give me more, Riordan. I want more.”

He pulled back and this time thrust back in hard, deeper, hitting that spot again so thoroughly I moaned. “Damn, do I like that sound.” He nipped my neck, the perfect mix of soft lips with the barest pinch of fangs, and my hips bucked up to meet his next stroke, a moan ripping out between my lips as he slammed in deep.

His chuckle echoed straight through me. “Fuck, you fit me so perfect, Silver. I can’t wait to hear what you sound like when you come.” He drove himself home with a mighty stroke, then again, my heels digging deep into the small of his back as he rode me like he couldn’t stop, every stroke turning friction to an aching desperation.

I can’t…I have to…” I whipped my head back and forth, fingers clawing down his back, heels pressing, urging him to move faster, to give me everything .

With a groan he answered, thrusting in and out, faster and faster, one hand reaching between us, dragging down my stomach to my clit, and when he pressed his thumb to that tender nub, I imploded in a shower of stars, screaming out his name, my core clamping down on his thick length.

“That’s it. Yes, so fucking beautiful, Silver. Fuuuck .”

Riordan froze above me, veins standing out on his neck as he came, every muscle in his body taut as a wire. I hung on for dear life, one hand tangled in his hair, the other gripping his arm, his body trembling while his cock pulsed inside me, aftershocks of my own orgasm rocking through my core, milking him dry.

Then it was over, the silence of the empty room pressing in, and he rolled onto the rug, taking me with him. “I’m glad you said yes, Silver,” Riordan murmured, winding a piece of my hair around his finger before his voice turned sad. “I do wish we were friends, because I find you very intriguing.”

No, we weren’t friends, were we?

Even though I lay sprawled across Riordan’s chest, naked from the waist down, my mouth pressed against his throat as I panted, aftershocks rocking my body, his blood smeared across my lips. That fuzzy, logy sensation crept through me, turning my limbs heavy as lead, my eyes slipping closed as his arm tightened around my waist.

I’d fed from him. Fucked him. And we were enemies.

I had no idea where that left me.

“Sleep, Silver.” I had the vaguest sensation of being lifted and set down in the chair, of him fastening up my pants and laying something heavy and warm over me. I drew in a breath of ancient leather and a phantom hint of my mother’s perfume right before my eyes closed.