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CHAPTER NINETEEN

HARLEN

B efore I went to Club Bailar Caliente to look for Marisol, I wanted to apologize to Morgan for putting her in harm’s way. I hoped she wasn’t mad at me. I wasn’t thinking when I invited her on a stakeout with me. It was stupid and reckless. I had enough time to go visit Morgan at the loft. My brother had already gone to The Castle. I didn’t have to run into him and hear him scold me about dating Morgan.

When I called ahead to let Morgan know I was coming, she didn’t sound upset. I took that as a sign that I was welcomed to visit. This time I parked in the inside garage. Josh opened the garage door for me. I rode the elevator up to the loft. Morgan was waiting there for me at the elevator doors. She was wearing a white tank top and black shorts. Her hair was still big and curly like the night before.She was really a goddess. By far the most beautiful woman I’d ever been with, and I had a lot of bodies, like the young cool people say nowadays.

“Hey,” she said in a neutral tone.

“Hey.”

“Come back to my room.”

I followed her to one of the guest bedrooms that she had claimed as her own. I couldn’t help but stare at her ass. After she closed the door to her room, we both sat on the bed.

“I’m sorry I asked you to join me at the club. It was dangerous.”

“Yeah, but it was also fun. We never go on dates. It was a good time until we saw that bitch Marisol.”

“It was a good time. I can take you on more dates.”

“I like dates, but I really like when we fuck.”

“Oh, I love when we fuck, too.” I got excited by her choice of words.

“You have never shown me your fangs.”

“I know. I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“Do you think I scare that easy?” She purred and pressed her luscious lips together.

“No, I would never think that about you.”

“Well, let me see ‘em.”

“I’ll show you my fangs if you show me your tits.”

“Not a problem.” Morgan lifted her tank top over her head and tossed it. She exposed her gorgeous set of plump and firm C cups to my hungry eyes.

My mouth watered at the sight of her perfect breasts. Her pink nipples were already hard and begging for my attention.

“Your turn,” she said with a mischievous smile.

I let the change come over me. I felt my canines extend and push through my gums. I parted my lips and let her see my parlor trick.

Morgan’s eyes grew, but not with fear. She leaned closer, studying my fangs with fascination.

“Can I touch them?” She whispered.

I nodded, and she reached out, running her fingertip gently over the sharp point of one fang. The sensation sent a shiver down my spine and straight to my cock.

“Does it hurt when they come out?” She asked.

“No, it feels natural.”

She moved her finger away and replaced it with her lips, kissing me softly. I was careful not to nick her as our kiss deepened. Her tongue explored my mouth, teasing against my fangs, and I groaned with need.

“I want more than just your tits,” I growled against her mouth.

“Take what you want,” she breathed. “I’m all yours tonight.”

I pushed her back onto the bed, my hands roaming over her skin. She arched into my touch as I cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between my fingers. The scent of her arousal filled the room, making my head swim.

“You have no idea how fucking sexy you are.” I said, trailing kisses down her neck. I could feel her pulse racing beneath my lips, the blood pumping just below the surface. I had to fight the urge to bite down.

“I know how sexy I am. You just need to fuck me like you know.”

I couldn’t hold back any longer. I pushed her down flat on her back and yanked her shorts down her legs, revealing she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. My cock strained painfully against my jeans as I took in the sight of her wet pussy.

“Fuck, Morgan,” I growled, my fangs still fully extended. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

She spread her legs wider, her fingers trailing down to part her folds. “Maybe. Or maybe I just don’t like panties. Are you going to stare all night or are you going to fuck me?”

I stripped off my clothes in record time, nearly tearing my shirt in the process. My cock sprang free, rock hard and ready. Morgan’s eyes darkened with lust as she watched me.

I crawled between her legs, teasing her entrance with the head of my cock. She was dripping wet. Her cream coated my shaft as I rubbed against her clit.

“Tell me what you want.” I demanded, needing to hear her say it. Her voice was like music to my vampire ears.

“I want you to beat my pussy up.” She moaned, grinding against me. “I want to feel those fangs on my skin while you pound me into this mattress.”

That was all I needed to hear. I slammed into her in one powerful thrust, burying myself to the hilt. She cried out, her back arching off the bed, her manicured nails digging into my shoulders.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” I hissed, holding still for a moment to savor the feeling of her pussy clenching around me.

“Don’t stop.” She begged, wrapping her legs around my waist.

I moved, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. Each thrust pushed her up the bed until she braced her hands against the headboard. The room filled with the sounds of our bodies slapping together and Morgan’s increasingly loud moans.

I leaned down, running my fangs lightly over her neck, careful not to break the delicate skin. She shuddered beneath me. Her pussy tightened in response.

“Do you like that?” I whispered against her ear.

“God, yes,” she gasped. “I fucking love this vampire dick.”

An unexpected response, but the best words my ears had ever heard in all my long years on earth. I increased my pace, pounding into her relentlessly. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, and I captured one nipple in my mouth, grazing it with my fangs. Morgan screamed. Her body trembled as she approached her climax.

“I’m gonna come,” she warned, her voice breaking. “Fuck, don’t stop!”

I reached between us, rubbing her clit in tight circles as I continued to drive into her. Her walls clamped down on my cock as she came, her entire body shaking with the force of her orgasm. The sight of her coming undone pushed me over the edge, and I buried myself deep inside her as I erupted, filling her with hot spurts of cum.

We collapsed together, sweaty and panting. I carefully retracted my fangs as I rolled to the side, pulling her against my chest.

“That was...” she trailed off, still catching her breath. “Amazing.”

“Amazing.” I agreed, kissing the top of her head.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, I remembered why I had come here in the first place. I had apologized, but now I had to leave to go to that club out west. I had a job, an assignment to get to. I refused to let my brother down again.

“Morgan,” I said reluctantly, “I hate to do this, but I need to go.”

She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at me with a satisfied smile. “Marisol hunting?”

I nodded. “I need to find her before she disappears.”

“I understand,” she said, tracing patterns on my chest. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Next time, show me what else those fangs can do.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“That’s a promise I’ll definitely keep,” I said, pulling her down for one last kiss before I had to go.

I hurried and got dressed. I could’ve showered. But why would I wash Morgan off my body? If she couldn’t be with me in the flesh, I wanted to have her human sweat and pussy juices available to sniff, so they could comfort me when I was feeling lonely.

With one last kiss on her mouth and a quick lick of her pussy, I was out the door. I preferred my tongue to taste like her nectar. Instead of the pepper-minty flavor that came with being a vampire. I headed out and drove to my destination.

The club music pulsated around me. I was going to make good on my promise to my brother. I nursed my whiskey glass. This time I was really pretending to drink it. I was consuming the alcohol like a real human would. While my eyes never left Marisol Lopez, my stalking wasn’t apparent to the patrons around me. I was watching her, and I wondered who she was watching. Tonight, I was the real predator. I was waiting for her to make one fatal mistake.

Club Bailar Caliente had a full house tonight. There were more bodies moving in rhythm to the Latin beats than the night before. Red and blue lights swept across the dance floor, making everyone look like blue-faced angels and red-faced devils. I positioned myself at the bar. I had a perfect vantage point with an unobstructed view of Marisol while remaining half-concealed in the shadows.

I ordered another whiskey. It was my fifth in two hours. The bartender, a woman with long raven hair and fake tits, slid it across the bar without a word. She didn’t know booze would never intoxicate me. I wondered how many more drinks she could serve me before I was cut off.

Marisol was sitting alone tonight. No bodyguards, no friends. Just her and a glass of something clear with a lime that she barely touched. Her dark hair was pulled back. She was dressed simply in black leather pants and a silky red top. Nothing flashy, nothing memorable and nothing I would consider sexy. I spotted her female sidekick in the club on the dance floor. Natasha believed the woman was Marisol’s older cousin, Eva. Her name didn’t matter to me. I just wanted the ladies to stay away from each other for one night. Just so I could have Marisol all to myself.

I scanned the room with practiced precision. I took note of the exits, the minimal security cameras, the security staff, and the lone bouncer by the front door. I had to do this right, and that meant I had to be cautious.

My fingers drummed against the bar top. I had been here for hours. It seemed Marisol had no plans to leave soon. The minutes drug on. I thought of Morgan and the softness of her skin against mine. I shouldn’t have brought her here before. Zand was right. It was reckless, including her in something that could turn dangerous.

A stab of something uncomfortable twists in my gut. Is it guilt? I pushed it away. Tonight was all about redemption. About proving to Zand that I could handle this, that I could be trusted, and that he was my family, and I would never betray him again.

I pulled my phone out, careful to keep it angled away from prying eyes. The music was too loud to call Zand. My only option was text message.

I text: Been here for a couple of hours. She’s here.

Zand: Don’t let her get away.

I text: I won’t.

Zand: I need this over with. Do you need me to send someone?

I text: No I got this. Let’s keep the circle small.

Zand: Keep your eye on her.

I text: Yes brother.

Marisol stood suddenly. She moved toward the dance floor. I tensed, thinking she might leave, but she merely accepted a dance from a tall man in a bright shiny shirt. Marisol could dance. Her movements were fluid and practiced. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and there was something cold and masculine about her body language.

I watched as she danced with three different tall Hispanic partners over the next thirty minutes. The amigos were never allowed to get too close by her. She never left the dance floor with any of them. She was either being cautious or waiting for someone specific. Either way, it complicated things for me. I needed her to be all alone.

Patience had never been my strong suit. I shifted my weight on the barstool, watching her go back and sit in the VIP section. The artificial calm I projected felt ill-fitting and uncomfortable. My true nature was that of a predator. I wanted to strike. I wanted to put an end to this chica .

The club thinned out as 2 AM approached. The music shifted to a slower beat. They were closing down earlier today. Bartenders called for last rounds. Drunk couples clung to each other, swaying more from intoxication than rhythm.

And finally, Marisol stood, collecting her small purse from a table. She headed toward a side exit without a backwards glance. I gave her just enough of a head-start to feel safe and secure out on the Chicago streets.

I stood up, leaving my barely touched whiskey and a generous tip. I stepped outside the exit door. It was a welcome relief after hours in the club’s stench. The street was busy enough that I don’t stand out, but quiet enough that I can track Marisol’s walking about half a block ahead of me.

She walked alone with her head up. Not the posture of someone afraid to walk the streets at night. She was probably strapped, like Morgan suspected.

I followed at a safe distance. I was just another late-night partygoer heading home. The predator in me was fully awake now. I was hungry for fresh blood after guzzling that abomination called whiskey.

As we moved away from the busier streets toward a row of dimly lit storefronts closed for the night, I knew my moment was coming. Ahead of us was a particularly dark stretch of sidewalk. This area was perfect for what needed to be done to end this chapter.

Marisol’s heels tapped against the concrete. Click. Click. Click. The sound measured the seconds of life she had left. She turned down a narrower street, lined with closed shops and parked cars, but no people. No witnesses. This was perfect.

I accelerated my pace and let the distance between us shrink. I was close enough to smell her perfume. I was close enough to see the slight tension in her shoulders. Was it awareness? Impossible. She couldn’t hear me. I was soundless behind her.

Now. It had to be now. I told myself to lunge forward with my hands and reach for her throat. I was going to force her down to the sidewalk, rendering her immobile underneath my weight.

After the lunge, something went wrong. Instead of connecting with the soft flesh of her neck, my hands grasped at the empty air. Marisol pivoted impossibly fast, and she was facing me.

“What took you so long?” She teased with a surprisingly calm tone. “I thought you were going to jump me two blocks ago.”

I didn’t have a response. I shifted into a fighting stance.

“You fucking gringos.” She smirked and raised her fist.

I couldn’t hold back my chuckle. Did she think she could win this fight? Marisol struck me first. There was a blur of movement that I could barely detect. Her fist grazed my jaw, and it was like being hit with a hammer. She was too strong. Too fast. Something was fucking off! Something was fucking wrong!

I recovered quickly, driving forward with a barrage of blows aimed at her face and torso. She blocked most of them, but I connected with one that sent her stumbling back against a brick wall. The impact would crush a human’s spine. Marisol merely grunted. Was she on drugs? She smelled like a human.

“Who sent you?”

I didn’t answer. Words were distractions. Instead, I faked left and attacked her on the right. I grabbed her arm and used her momentum to slam her to the ground. I was on top of her in an instant, pinning her with my weight, with one hand around her throat.

“You shouldn’t have come to Chicago.” I growled, tightening my grip. “

A strange sound escaped her mouth, not a choke or gasp, but a hearty laugh.

“You, stupid gringo.”

Marisol’s face changed. It wasn’t gradual. It was instant. Her dark eyes lightened. Her red lips parted to reveal what couldn’t possibly be there.

Fangs! Vampire fangs!

“What the fuck?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. My grip on her throat loosened from the shock. “You’re a vampire?”

That single split-second of hesitation costs me everything. Marisol bucked beneath me with her supernatural strength. She threw me off balance. Her hand connected with my chest, and I was suddenly airborne. I crashed into a parked car ten feet away. The impact dented the metal and shattered glass rained down around me.

Pain bloomed across my back. Not debilitating, but sharp enough to slow me down. I scrambled to my feet as Marisol rose from the ground with fluidity that only came from vampire reflexes.

“Tell your brother his ex-wife sends her regards!” She yelled out while running away from me. “Now I can avenge my brother!”

I took off behind her, but she had a head-start on me.

I use all my speed to dive at her. She sidesteps and delivers a kick to my knee that would have shattered a human’s joint. I staggered but didn’t fall. I was ready to fight to the death. I could take a new vamp.

Something odd flickered across her new face. Marisol turned on her heels and ran away from me. I chased her toward the end of the block. I sprinted after her, pushing my body to its limits. I was faster than her, older, and more experienced but she had a head start. I started to close the distance between us. I reached up and my fingers nearly brushed the back of her shirt.

A few feet ahead a black sedan appeared on the street stopping directly in our path.

The sedan’s door flung open and Marisol dove inside. I caught a glimpse of the driver, a woman with olive skin and dark hair. Before the door slammed shut, the car accelerated with a screech of tires.

I refused to let it end like this. I gave chase for a full block, keeping pace with the speeding vehicle. They blew through a red light into busy cross-traffic. Horns blared and cars swerved to avoid a collision. I skidded to a stop, missing the minivan that was destined to crash into me.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuckkkk!” I cursed violently as the sedan disappeared into Chicago’s maze of streets.

For a long moment, I stood there, chest heaving from rage and disbelief. Teresa turned Marisol. She created another vampire, an enemy specifically engineered to hurt my brother and his human.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I removed it to look at the screen. It was Zand. I ignored it. This news needs to be delivered in person. Immediately.

There was no fucking way I failed again. Fuck! I failed again.