Page 4 of Dark Souls

Archer was now resting his chin on his palm, his eyes vacant as he digested that information with a subtle nod of his head. “If only we could get forensics involved.”

I hummed, chewing at my bottom lip, deep in thought. Supernaturals didn’t leave forensic evidence as humans did. DNA couldn’t be found at crime scenes or on the victim’s bodies, which made it that much harder to find these lawbreakers. The only thing which could be traced was their scent. No one knew I had given into my needs and tasted the blood from Sylvester’s butchered heart but I also did it to see if I could detect the scent of the killer. My mouth had watered when a rich, dark flavour lingered in the blood but it was too faint to pinpoint what species.

“Have there been others? Other murders like this one?” I asked him directly, seeking his eye contact in case he refused to tell me. His eyes met mine briefly but it was enough. I heard the answer without him moving his lips before he glanced away.Yes, there had been.My gaze swept down to the stacked profiles on his desk.

“As Sienna said, we aren’t able to share any information about highly confidential cases with you until you are officially part of the team. But thanks, Ilaria. We appreciate your input.”

It was his polite way of telling me to get the fuck out because he knew I could read his mind and I was making him extremely uncomfortable. I could tell from the quickening pulse throbbing in his throat, the way he fidgeted in his chair and his refusal to look me in the eye. Fine. They don’t want my help? So be it.

Standing up from the chair abruptly, I clicked my tongue with annoyance but pushed the intense feelings of anger and frustration down.Suppress. Control your emotions. Don’t prove them right.

“I hope you catch them before they do it again. If you need me, you know where I am.” My voice stayed remarkably calm and professional but my strained smile was hard to miss. I left his office in the SIA headquarters and headed for the lift. My fingers tapped against my thigh with irritation. There was nothing I hated more than when a plan failed. Or, more truthfully, when I don’t get what I want. Because, let’s be honest, who enjoys being told no? Unlucky for them, I rarely take no for an answer. Which, granted, could cause problems. But when presented with a barrier to my desires, I find a way to obliterate it with a fucking wrecking ball.

Being a pure-blood vampire from a very strong bloodline means that trait is only amplified in me. I’m determined to a fault. When an idea becomes lodged in my brain, no one can talk me out of it, no matter how insane or ridiculous it may be. Some see it as stubbornness. My therapist, Grandma Alina, calls it a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder. I prefer determination. And last night only increased my determination to become an agent tenfold. I gave up a perfectly good feed in Eddie Hughes for the chance to be taken seriously by the SIA. If that’s not determination and control, I don’t know what more I can do.

‘I’m getting hangry. Feed me. And not one of those tasteless blood bags. I need to feel a pulse,’my vampire side (who I had named Cruella when I was younger after my favourite Disney villain because why the hell not) demanded as if I couldn’t already feel her irritating projection of painful hunger spreading through my veins, making my skin itch and my patience falter. She was downright pissed I had ignored her urges last night and hadn’t torn an artery in that rapist’s neck. This was the vicious cycle of vampirism. Being moral and doing the lawful thing by drinking blood bags equates to a pissed-off vampire counterpart whose bloodlust only heightens with their anger. Kill on impulse and satisfy the insatiable thirst and you become the monster you try so hard to contain. There is no winning. My unusual eyes scanned the floor buttons and landed on the training centre for agents. I smirked. Well, maybe there is no winning but there was a grey area. One that currently comes in the form of a huge, muscled human called Ronnie.

Pressing the button for the third floor, the doors closed and my fingers continuously tapped against my thigh, a soothing rhythm which helped me to maintain control until I could meet Cruella’s (or Rue, as she prefers to go by) needs. I could have chosen a kill from the Green List but that would mean finding a member of my family to babysit me while I fed and I was too on edge to deal with them. It was one of the rules placed upon me by those overprotective men I loved so damn much that I couldn’t even be angry at them for it. If I wanted a live feed or the thrill of a kill, I had to be with either my mum, Uncle Raiden or Grandpapi Arius. Even at twenty-one, they still saw me as needing their protection. They all had vampire sides, so they could understand the urge but said when a vampire feeds, they are at their most vulnerable. Distracted. So, we always had to feed in pairs. The problem was feeding was an erotic act. It’s sensual and a good feed was sometimes better than any orgasm imaginable, so having my family watch over me while I drank from a human meant holding back that side of myself. It meant forcing the act to become a chore rather than the pleasurable experience I craved it to be. And a girl has needs! It was alright for them. They all had fated mates to feed their lustful, orgasmic side of drinking. I did not. Instead of breaking their rules by killing alone and disappointing them all, which would only cause them upset I refused to be at the receiving end of, I found a loophole. A grey area. A willing participant.

Strolling over to the large viewing window that overlooked the training gym where many agents were in combat, lifting weights or running on treadmills, I clocked the largest man in the room within seconds. He was hard to miss with his towering frame of solid muscle, shaved brown hair and rugged good looks. He was built like a professional wrestler but had the grit of a soldier who had seen far too much action. With an exceptional track record as a human SIA agent and a legion of admirers, Ronnie was no stranger to female attention.

He was spotting another man who had a barbell above his chest, puffing until he was red in the face. Ronnie’s huge hands hovered just below the bar as he shouted words of encouragement for one more rep while the man’s arms shook like a leaf. The poor bloke looked like he was about to pass out. Before his arms gave way, Ronnie grabbed the bar, lifting it effortlessly and placed it back onto the rack with a teasing smile as the agent sat up, puffing out of his ass. I knocked my knuckles against the glass, gaining Ronnie’s attention as he patted the man on the back. His smile widened and a little twinkle in those brown eyes glimmered when I gestured with my head in the direction of the men’s changing rooms. I’d never seen the man move so fast.

The moment he entered the empty sweat-scented room, I gripped his broad shoulders and spun him around, smashing his back into the door of a private cubicle. Rue was too impatient for small talk, and the arousal in his scent was only adding to the hunger.

“Hey, Little Princess, miss me already?” His big goofy grin only grew as I pushed his chest until he fell back on the bench and I locked the door behind me. He may dwarf me in size but we both knew who was in charge in this scenario. His brown eyes grew heated, and he licked his lips as he took in my body from my combat boots, ripped black tights, and short black dress to the velvet choker around my neck. My gothic style wasn’t to everyone’s taste, but Ron sure seemed to love it by the tent his dick was making in his shorts.

Placing my hands back on his shoulders as I straddled his waist, I replied, “Something like that. But call me Little Princess again, and I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”

“Oh, I love it when you talk dirty,” he rumbled. His big hand fell to my waist, his fingers nearly wrapping halfway around me as his other weaved into my white hair. I knew what was coming. He dived forwards to try to capture my lips in a kiss like always, but I diverted at the last second to his neck, licking and kissing his skin where his vein pulsed. Kissing was off-limits. I’d realised when I had my first kiss and could read the mind of the wannabe alpha-hole without looking into his eyes that kissing gave the same telepathic connection. And the last thing I wanted to hear was their inner monologue while their tongue was in my mouth. He knew that but it never stopped him from trying. And I had to hand it to him. I did love a trier. He groaned with bliss as my hips rocked over his lap, my core sliding and pressing against his erection in slow movements. I held myself back from biting him, my body shaking with restraint. I wanted him so aroused he would only feel pleasure from my fangs, not pain.

“Fuck, Ilaria. Do it, baby. Bite the fuck out of me,” he groaned, his deep voice barely able to contain his lust. With his permission, my fangs snapped down and sunk into the side of his neck. I’d be letting thatbabyslide just for the sake of his delicious blood. I couldn’t contain my moan as I let go of my inhibitions and allowed my body to do what came naturally. My hips rocked faster, picking up momentum as his warm blood flooded my mouth. His cock was now rock hard, and the thin material of his shorts and my tights allowed us to feel every sensation while also providing the friction which heated my insides. My pussy throbbed, eager for more and in my blood-lust haze, I had to remind myself that throwing caution to the wind and sliding down on Ronnie’s thick cock while I drank from him would be a very, very bad move.

Not only was he Sienna’s best friend, which could get messy, but for vampires, sex and hunger go hand in hand. When we feed, we become aroused. When we’re aroused, we want to feed. And when we give in to both needs at the same time, it is blinding euphoria which can quickly lead to loss of control. So as much as the need to ride his hard dick while I gulped his warm, sweet blood was tempting, it was an itch I wasn’t willing to scratch. Not until I met my soulmate. Because, to me, that shit was sacred. To feed and fuck at the same time, there would be nothing like it and call me sentimental, but I wanted to keep that experience only for him. Whoever the hell he was.

‘And they say we’re not romantic!’Rue chuckled.

Ronnie’s grip on my hair and my waist tightened as my eyes rolled back into my head, taking more and more from him. His mouth was agape in pleasure and his eyes shut tight as I rubbed myself along his length. Up. Down. Up. Down. Faster. Faster again.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed. “Slow down, Ilaria, I’m going to-”

We all know how that ended. I removed my fangs from his neck, licking the remnants of his blood, which oozed from the bite until it was clean as his body shuddered and then relaxed back against the wall. His chest heaved up and down in heavy pants as I removed myself from his lap, his arms flopping down either side of him.

I licked my lips, savouring every drop as he opened his eyes and looked into mine.

Jesus Christ, she’s so fucking hot. I’d marry this girl just to get off like that for the rest of my life and we didn’t even have sex. Damn, she got me again.

“I’d be flattered if I didn’t believe you felt that way about every girl who got you off,” I laughed, rearranging my dress back over my ass.

Realising I had read his mind, his lips twisted into a cheeky grin. “No other girl makes me come in my fucking pants like a teenager, so no. I can’t say I feel that way about them.”

“Oh, stop, you’re making me blush,” I said sarcastically, unlocking the door and stepping up to the vanity sink to check my appearance in the mirror. Ronnie stood up and leaned against the cubicle door with one arm raised, showcasing his muscular body in his reflection.

“When are you going to let me take you out on a proper date?” he asked, watching me as I reapplied my crimson lipstick and puckered my lips.

“We have an arrangement. One that does not require dates. You’re off the hook, remember?” Ronnie was not the guy looking for exclusivity, no matter how much he insisted he could be. He loved the ladies far too much to be committed to just one. So, he could put on the charm offensive all he wanted, but whispering his sweet nothings didn’t fool me. Actions speak louder than words. And the Omega maid, who was giggling over his dirty texts in my family’s kitchen yesterday, would suggest just that. Not that I cared. I wasn’t the jealous type. And as far as I was concerned, we were both free and single to do as we pleased, using each other for pleasure when the need arose.

“What if I don’t want to be off the hook?” he asked, his gaze climbing my body like a ladder before settling on my ass. “What if I want more than our arrangement?”

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