Page 5 of Born in Blood

Ah, Lynette. I suppose she has a similar air about her. But this one’s pussy is much tighter. Her scent much sweeter. I heed his warning and do not tear into her flesh.

I may even allow you to keep her as a pet… until I tire of her, at least.

A pet? So I will get to feed on her and fuck her whenever and wherever I want? The very idea lights me up with anticipation, and I nail her to the mattress while I suckle greedily at her carotid vein, chasing the most intense high I’ve ever experienced. To my surprise, given that I’m doing little more than rutting into her with no concern for her pleasure, she comes before I do, screaming my name while her pussy muscles squeeze tightly around my entire length. My head spins and my eyes roll as I near the edge myself, so close to oblivion. I start to pull out, ready to unload over her luscious breasts, but his voice stops me.

There is no need, Alastair. There is no risk of you leaving her with child.

I don’t have the presence of mind to question or argue. Blinded by lust and hunger, I thrust harder into her, rocking my hips and emptying myself inside her, filling a woman’s womb with my seed for the very first time. It is both euphoric and addictive, and I am not sated. I want more.

Need more.

I turn to my new master. My sire. Another blinding wave of euphoria washes over me as I recall him sinking his teeth into my neck. The feeling is so unique and unusual in its strengththat I am sure it has left a lasting impression, like a brand permanently seared upon my soul. But I recall something else from that moment. As I was losing myself in the oblivion of the pleasure he wrung from my body, something happened. Searing, agonizing, flesh-melting pain. My heart stutters at the recollection.

He brushes his fingertips over my cheekbone and pulls me from the memory and back to the present. Back to this room. I share a connection with him of the like I have never felt with another, as though his very heart beats within my chest.

He threads his fingers through my hair and yanks my head back, his dark eyes sparkling with wicked intent. “Still hungry?”

A feral snarl falls from my lips. I am hungry for blood. I want to bathe in it. Drown in it.

He slaps the backside of the woman kneeling on the bed and pulls his spent cock from her, allowing her to fall into a heap next to the honey-haired beauty I just ravaged. However, he keeps his hand fisted in the third woman’s hair, possessive and yet somehow tender. She gazes at him adoringly. “It is the bloodlust. It will pass soon enough.”

Bloodlust? What in heaven’s name is that? He says the word with such confidence, like anyone would know its meaning. Is that the name to describe this insatiable thirst? He nods to the woman lying between his thighs. “You may feed from Scarlet too.”

With his permission given, I waste no time in pulling my still-hard cock from the woman beneath me and diving onto the woman beside her. Alexandros moves out of my way, seemingly content with the remaining woman in his arms for now. I wedge my knee between Scarlet’s thighs and spread them as I pull back her long dark curls and expose the olive skin of her décolletage, sticky with her blood. Her scent washes over me. Sickly sweet yet intoxicating.

I drive my cock inside her tight channel, which is filled with his release, right before I sink my new fangs into her neck. She whines, her inner walls gripping me. And I feed while I fuck her. Never have I felt more alive or more powerful than I do at this very moment. Invincible. Someone could plunge a knife into my chest, and I am sure I would survive.

Chapter

Three

ALASTAIR (AXL)

Having dressed in my own clothes, which have been cleaned and still remain warm from the fire, I watch Alexandros fasten his cufflinks. The three women we spent the past night and day with do not seem to bear any ill will toward either of us for any of the depraved things we did, and they were legion. Nor do they bear any physical signs of having been bitten repeatedly. In fact, they look upon us both, but especially him, with nothing but unbridled adoration.

“When will you be back, my lord?” Kira asks, her dark eyelashes fluttering against her rosy cheeks. The brunette he seems to favor most kneels on the bed, naked and seemingly unbothered about her undressed state in front of me and the other two women. She flashes a coy smile at me before redirecting her attention to him.

He grabs her chin in his hand. “At first light, perhaps. Young Alastair and I have a few things to take care of before we leave for America.”

I tilt my head, sure I misheard. “America?” I don’t know much of the world outside England, but I do know that Americais on the other side of it and that it takes six weeks by ship to reach.

He arches an eyebrow at me. “We have much to discuss. Come.” He grabs his coat and heads for the door, leaving the women sighing over his departure and me hurrying to catch up with him. However, it does not escape my attention that I move much more swiftly than I did… I have no idea how many days have passed since I first met this stranger, for I am sure I was unconscious for much more than a single rising of the sun.

He opens the door of the guest house, and cold night air immediately whips at my face, but I don’t feel the bitter chill as harshly as usual. And I don’t feel any stiffness in my muscles from having spent the last eight hours fucking. I roll my neck until it cracks, so much unease creeping into my bones that a shudder runs down my spine.

I know this man saved my life. What was it he offered me? Death or salvation? And obviously I chose the latter, but that doesn’t mean I’m beholden to him in any way. Except, deep down, I know that’s exactly what it means.

He steps out into the busy street, and I follow. “America?” I ask once more.

Without glancing at me, he nods. “We have passage on a ship in two days.”

“But…” So many questions tumble over themselves in my head, begging to be asked, but I have no idea which is the most pertinent.

“I am aware that you have many questions, Alastair. So ask them,” he says, his tone as brusque as his manner.

“What if I don’t want to go to America?”

“What is left for you here?”

---