Page 16 of Immortal Burden

He sank into my hard kiss, his tongue tangling with mine.

Pulling back after a few moments, I stood regarding him.

His hair was a wild mess, his cock still semi-hard, his face flushed with sweat permeating every part of his skin that was visible.

He was a vision.

Absolutely perfect.

“Rest here for a while,” I said, gesturing to the couch. I held out my hand to him and he took it in a daze, allowing me to lead him over. “I doubt very much that you can put one foot in front of the other without assistance right now.”

He sank onto the leather and looked up at me in question. “Is it always like this for people? With a vampire, I mean?”

I leaned down to his eye level, gazing deep into his eyes with a devilish smile. “I am not just any vampire, Ryker.”

He grinned back at me. “No. No, you’re not.”

As I set about fixing him back into his clothes, as he was utterly spent, and barely able to hold his heady steady, I sensed his eyes on me.

Specifically, on the tent protruding through my dress pants.

I cocked an eyebrow and he asked, “Do you... need… help with that?”

The noticeable trace of uncertainty in his voice betrayed his nervousness at even posing the question, let alone, actually moving to do something about it.

I shook my head. “You are not ready.” I fondled his hair softly. “Next time.”

He rested his head back against the couch, closing his eyes, as he murmured, “Next time.”

5

~Ryker~

Two Years Ago

Mia’s blue light swirled like a violent vortex, growing higher and higher, shooting up above the high-rises of the city, just a few blocks from me, finishing up with the unruly element that had tried to wreak havoc tonight.

Due to the fact that we were out in a very human public area, we’d both cloaked our magic from view of those without supernatural blood. In fact, the moment we’d arrived on the scene, I’d cast an illusion that had the two dozen rabid vampires running through the streets intent on chaos, destruction while they sought to satiate their ramped up bloodlust, appearing as humans on a crime spree. One of the primary rules of the Guardian Movement was to safeguard the existence of the supernatural world.

I blew out a weary breath as I continued my hunt for the last two vampires, the idiots who’d been led by an anarchist two-hundred-year-old vampire who’d turned them all a few weeks prior for his sadistic enjoyment of causing chaos and bloodshed. He’d been on our wanted list for the last couple of years, finally growing arrogant enough to create such a show here tonight to draw the attention of the Guardian Movement. He thought himself above it all when all he’d really done was to ensure his reign of terror ended tonight.

It was taking a vast amount of my magical energy to sustain the illusion for so long—going on three hours straight now since Mia and I had been called down here.

It had to be me, rather than her, though, because my magic was more stable. With her greater power, it naturally invited more volatility, which had never been helped by her fear when it came to the dark ramifications if she lost control even for a moment.

I fought through the lethargy and turned down an alley, which, according to my tracking spell, put the remaining two vampires four blocks away.

It turned out I didn’t even have to wait that long, the wind whipping around me all of a sudden announcing their arrival.

Reacting quickly, I swept my green fire in an arc, just a split-second before one of the hostiles hit. He slammed into it, shrieking as it gave him one hell of a magical burn before propelling him forty feet down the alley. I watched him crash into the brick wall, taking a chunk out of it, before sliding down onto his ass.

Keeping my left hand maintaining the arc, I twisted my right hand and snapped his neck. Although a broken neck, of course, wouldn’t end the life of the undead, it would put him out for several hours, long enough to transport him to one of our rehabilitation facilities.

“Impressive,” a voice carried on the wind before another hostile suddenly burst into being to my right.

I spun, barely able to take in the profile of a lanky finger with dirty-blond long hair before another burst had him tackling me across my right side, carefully avoiding my magic being wielded in my other hand.

I smashed into a couple of garbage cans and, before I could right myself, he was standing over me and fisting his hand in my black, hooded cloak—standard Guardian Movement attire when in the field.

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