The Order.
The motherfucking Order.
He couldn't get to them. No matter where he'd flashed to, no matter how hard he'd called to them in his mind, they had ignored him. Maybe all that talk about "innocent members" of the credentis being taken was just that--talk. Maybe it was all about what it had always been about with them--Pure Blood.
Alexander dropped his head back, exhausted. The bars of his cage felt cold and soothing against his naked skin. Between the battle at Dare's and the hours of failed mind travel, his veins were as dry as winter leaves and his belly ached for the rich, power-inducing blood of a veana.
He closed his eyes, lifted his chin, and sniffed the air as an Impure entered the room. A growl hummed at the back of Alexander's throat. "You bring the scent of Dr.
Donohue with you tonight, Evans."
"Yes, sir."
His eyes remained closed. "You wish to drive me mad, then?"
"No, sir. I'm sorry, sir. She stopped me in the hall, wanted to speak with me."
"What did she want?"
"You, sir."
Alexander's eyes opened and he searched out the face of his servant. A soft, sad smile lit the old Impure's eyes as he stood there, on the other side of the bars. He too understood the pain of an unfulfilled desire. Alexander wondered what Evans would think if he knew what Dare was promoting. Would he join forces with the half-breed?
Would Alexander blame him if he did?
As another wave of Sara's scent drifted into Alexander's nostrils, his mouth watered. He slammed his fists against the bars. "Have you brought me something besides the scent of a blood I cannot taste?"
"One of the Impures is fetching your repast, sir."
The blood of a cow. Alexander sneered. Just the thought of it turned his stomach.
He gripped the bars, wishing he'd ordered spikes to be placed on the steel poles, their sharp points stabbing into his palms, replacing one pain he couldn't quell with another he could.
"The hunger grows worse," Evans said, observing him.
"Take the pity from your eyes, Evans," Alexander growled.
"Sir. Miss Kettler could--"
"No."
"She is pure."
"Cease!"
"Even if she is not your true mate, her blood will fill you, give you time--"
Alexander's hand was through the bars and around Evans's neck. "Say another word and your blood will fill me--impure and weak though it is."
Hanging a foot above the ground, Evans stilled, his jaw trembling, his eyes popping with fear. After a moment, Alexander released him onto the stone floor below with an irritated grumble. "Leave me."
Sara was lost.
Twenty minutes ago, she'd followed Evans into a remote part of the house, through a door, and down some steps into what she'd assumed was a cellar, but what had turned out to be an entire secret world beneath the SoHo streets.
She looked behind her, down the length of tunnel that was high and relatively wide and lit every ten feet or so by torches. It went on forever, branching out in several directions. It's how she'd lost Evans. Fear of what might be lurking in the shadows beyond had made her question her decision to follow the servant many times, but the drive and curiosity to explore, mixed with the unshakable feeling that Alexander was near, kept her in pursuit. As a doctor, she questioned the base, raw instincts that pushed her to find him; as a woman, she ran blindly.
She wove her way through the tunnels as the air grew colder and colder and she could see her breath. Just as she was wondering if anyone but the Romans used the tunnels, she spotted something ahead and froze. A man--short, stocky, and definitely not Evans. He stood against the wall, perfectly still, his chin lifted. As quiet as she could manage, Sara turned around and hurried back the way she came, veering off onto another leg of the tunnel, one she'd rejected earlier. She kept running, growing warmer with the exercise, not slowing down until she saw another light ahead, and a voice she recognized.
Her heart jumped into her throat and she sprang ahead, into the light and a cold, cavelike room.
But her excitement died a quick death. Cut into the rock wall was a cell, a cage, its steel door shut. As she approached, she noticed there was an opening in the top of the door, three iron bars that revealed one lonely prisoner. Alexander. Her gut pulled at the sight. In the dim light, she saw him on his knees, nude and shaking, huddled over the body of a cow. His fangs were bared and he was about to strike, about to feed . . .
"Oh God." Her breath rushed from her lungs.
Alexander's head came up with a jerk. His eyes were bloodred and menacing as he stared straight into her. He looked utterly inhuman at that moment--like a starving wolf, ready to kill anything that came near his untouched meal. He lowered his chin and growled at her, his fangs fully extended now, twin blades of instant death.
Disturbed and confused, Sara turned and ran from the room, down the hall, her heart slamming against her ribs. The scene played in her mind, over and over, and suddenly she couldn't catch her breath. She stopped at the apex of the tunnels and gripped the rock wall for support. What was happening to her? Why was she stopping? Why wasn't she running for the front door, terrified, desperate to get away from him? Why did she, even now--even after what she'd just seen--yearn for the beast in him to search her out?
"You saw me."
Sara gasped and whirled around. Naked and aroused, nostrils flaring and fangs bared, Alexander towered over her, his mere presence forcing her back against the stone wall of the frigid tunnel.
"You saw what I am," he snarled.
Her breath coming heavy and uneven, Sara locked eyes with him. "Yes."
"An animal that seeks blood."
"Yes."
He leaned closer, his warm breath on her cheek, his spicy blood scent filling her nostrils, his cock hard against her belly. "An animal that hovers over its dead prey--"
"Stop saying 'it'!" she broke in passionately.
He leaned in closer still. "--Ready to sink its fangs into the animal's vein."
"You're not an 'it,' goddammit!"
"Am I not?" he roared back, the sound echoing through the cavernous tunnels.
"You saw me in that cage! What the fuck am I, then?"
Sara didn't move, just stood her ground, chin lifted, staring into his belligerent merlot eyes. "You are the one I ..." Her tongue refused to say it. She couldn't. It was too soon. He wasn't ready or able to hear the truth from her.
Alexander dropped his head, his mouth just inches from hers. "You are afraid."
"Yes."
He cursed. His jaw looked tight enough to crack and he pushed away from her.
"Go now."
"Alexander . . ."
"Go now, because if you remain I will take you--your body and possibly your blood as well."
Sara barely hesitated. "Then do it." She started to unbutton her shirt. "Take me!"
Alexander's eyes flared with panic-laced desire. "No! Sara, stop."
But Sara wasn't listening. She was done with this shit. She wanted her shirt off, wanted to be naked like him--wanted his hands on her and his cock inside her, and she didn't care about the consequences.
"For fuck's sake, Sara, stop!" He reached out and grabbed the two sides of her shirt and held them together. "No matter what I am, I would never take a female who fears me."
She tried to push his hands away. "I'm not afraid of you, Alexander."
"Bullshit," he growled. "I heard what you said before, and I scent your fear now--"
She locked eyes and growled back, "Listen to me, vampire, and listen well. The only thing I'm afraid of is me! That's it. Afraid of what's happening inside of me. Things I want, things that don't make any kind of sense for a human to want." Her voice cracked with emotion, but she kept going. "I'm afraid of being without you, never feeling again the way I feel when I'm with you. I'm afraid of never seeing your eyes again or your mouth, or hearing your voice. I'm afraid you'll never allow yourself to fill the emptiness in my heart, my soul, or my body--"
Sara never finished her thought. Alexander crushed his mouth over hers, his kiss so warm and intense that Sara felt utterly helpless and heart-shatteringly thrilled all at the same time. With a moan of pleasure, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply, her tongue playing with the tips of his fangs. Suddenly, a fragrance so rich, so intoxicating, floated into her nostrils and she opened her eyes and stared at him. Then she saw it. The wound on his shoulder. It had opened again, just a millimeter, but she saw two tiny tears of blood on the surface. How was this happening? she wondered, her tongue dry, her throat parched. She had no answer, only the cry her body refused to silence, and she hugged him close, let her tongue sweep over the two sweet red droplets.
Alexander's skin blazed with a sudden and intense heat. It had to be forty degrees at most in the tunnels and yet his body burned as though it had been pitched into the epicenter of a forest fire. Sara. Paradise and hell pressed sweetly against his cock and his chest. His arms tightened around her. She was everything--his desire, his tormentor, his sparring partner, and his savior, and if he was going to burn for this, so be it.
He pulled his head back and found her mouth again, kissed her hard and furious and hungry, tasting her sweetness and something else he couldn't describe but that made his cock weep at the tip. He prayed to all who looked down upon him that he could control his need for her blood, that her mouth and her eyes, her words and her honey-sweet cunt could satiate him enough not to go for her vein.
In his history, mating and feeding had never gone together: one was for pleasure, the other for sustenance. With Sara, that custom was for shit. He wanted both, he wanted his cock inside her while he suckled from the spot below her left breast.
On a growl, he eased away, looked at her with her back against the wall, her face tipped up to him, her long lashes fluttering, her blueberry eyes heavy with lust. She was so beautiful, his heart ached to have her--to claim her--completely and always. He smiled at her then, and when she smiled back, he reached for her unbuttoned shirt and splayed the material wide, pulling it down off her shoulders. Then he dropped his head and cut the fastening of her bra with his fangs. Sara's breasts sprung free, the large, perfect globes lifting and lowering with each breath she took. Alexander stared with shameless hunger at her nipples, pink and rigid. They called to him, as a grown paven and as a balas who had never been allowed the closeness and care of his mother's bosom. Her sweet tits begged him to suckle, and he did, drawing on the hard tip, flicking one with his tongue while his fingers played at her other breast.
Sara moaned, arched against him, gripped his scalp with her fingers. "Feel me,"
she whispered, taking his hand and placing it between her legs. "Feel what you do to me.
How ready I am ..."
She was hot and damp, even through the heavy jean fabric. Alexander nearly lost it. His cock strained, pre-come beading at the head, desperate to find its way into the hot tunnel of her body. He yanked at her jeans, the zipper, pulling the whole mess down to her ankles, growling as she quickly stepped out of the unwanted fabric and stood naked and glorious before him. His mouth found hers again as his hand slid between her thighs.
He palmed her, held her in his hand, cursing at the feeling of hot, wet curls tickling his skin. He couldn't help himself. He let one finger slip between her lips, run lazily over her clit, then slide home, so deep into her cunt her body jerked and she sucked in a breath. Oh God. To be here, he thought, to be buried here for days . . .
"The guards," she uttered against his mouth, reaching between their bodies for his erection.
Fuck. Alexander moaned, pumping himself against her hand as he slipped another finger inside her. "They will not. Our scent will keep them away. No male would approach another male during mating, and if they tried, it would be their death."
"I want you." Sara reached behind his shaft, cupping his balls. "Now. Inside me."
Alexander released a feral cry. He could take no more of this play. He lifted her up and placed her down on the head of his cock. The hot slide into her cunt was pure, unimaginable pleasure and his fangs lengthened and pulsed with an all-new flash of desire to feed--like nothing he'd ever experienced before. For a moment, he just held her there, closed his eyes, fought for control over his hunger and let her muscles clench around him. "We're going to hell for this," he uttered against her neck, her vein that throbbed with life.
"Good," she said, clinging to him. "I love to sweat."
Alexander drew back and took her mouth again, kissed her hard and demanding as he gripped her buttocks and started to move. Slow strokes at first, but as she moaned into his mouth and arched her back, grinding her nipples into his chest, he cried out again and thrust deeper into the slick mouth of her cunt. Her breath was coming quick now and her hot muscles stretched and hummed around his cock. And then he heard her gasp, felt her nails dig into the flesh of his back, and he pumped harder, his mind going numb as her body shook with climax.
As the hot wash of Sara's orgasm flooded his erection, Alexander knew the true pain of hunger. The starvation of his youth and the intense pain of premorpho was nothing compared to this--his hunger for her. He glanced down, saw his cock disappearing inside her body, saw his balls slam against her ass, felt her muscles convulsing around him. His mind screamed for her blood just as his own rushed through his veins and pooled into his scrotum.
He would come. And when he did he was going to bite her.
"Fuck! Sara . . . Fuck, I need you!"
"Take me, then," she uttered, jerking her hips against him. "All of me. I'm yours."
He pushed back, desperate to see her eyes when he exploded inside her. Under heavy lashes, her eyes were blue-black and filled with rapture as she held his gaze.
Alexander's hands tightened on her buttocks, his fingers wet with her come as he drove into her. Over and over, moving with frantic speed, filling her until he thought his mind would explode. And then it did. His jaw went wide, his throat released the call of mating, and he thrust into her so deeply she gasped. Hot seed poured from his prick, and Alexander turned away from the beautiful female in his arms and bit down into the flesh of his own wrist.