Captiva Craving - Vampire Werewolf Menage (Six Feet Under Series Book Two) (22 page)

“Look at me,” he ordered her again, lifting a pink-tinged fingertip to his lips. “Look at what you gave me.” Sixten’s tongue snaked out, licking every trace of her virgin blood. Pulling all the way out, he slid in slowly, gaining momentum with every slide and pull.

This time, she went to a different place. “I swear I’m glowing,” she gasped. Swimming in her mind until everything prickled and darkened, pleasure was all she knew. “Oh, my…”

His words turned foreign, maybe Russian, but the dialect was way off kilter – almost ancient. He shook his head as if to clear it. “That’s it, angel,” he praised her, rocking his hips, sweat dripping off his brow. “This one’s stronger than the last. Be prepared.” He curled up, lifting her hips, hitting a spot that crossed her eyes. “Let it go for me. Ride it up.” Thrust. “Over.” Thrust. “and out.”

“It feels…good.”

“
Yes. Yes, it does.” Thrust. “But there’s one thing you’re wrong about, Blythe. You can’t possibly love me more than I love you. For my selfish love, I’ve now thrown your innocent life into chaotic madness. And one day, I swear you’ll hate me for it.” When her sex clamped down on him, his head went back. “Oh, that’s so fucking perfect, angel.”

“Six?”

“No more talking, Blythe. No. More.”

When she hit her peak, all she could see was an inky vision where her man used to be, though he remained firmly inside her body. “S-Sixten?”

“Enough!”

“Where did you go?”

“I said enough of this Sixten!”

Blythe tried not to cringe at the sound of Gianni’s melodic voice. She looked around her so-called room. “Is it night or day?” Her sleep consisted of naps here and there when he was, supposedly, away. Now? The bastard had slipped in on her, spooning against her back as she dreamed about losing her innocence
to her
husband
. Nearly a decade ago, she first accepted Sixten in her body, but it felt like yesterday.

“Maybe I’ll change my mind about killing him.” His hand slipped between her thighs, gathering the moisture found there.
Not for him.
“I never wanted to cause the female I loved pain, not in that way. But I must confess that I’m losing my will in this, Blythe.”

Dare she want Sixten to find her, signing his very death warrant?

No, but she had to get out of here.

“My cousin Prince Volos is due today.”

“Today?” This day marked her only chance for escape.

He was naked, pressing his length against her back crevice. “I want to hear my name from your lips, Blythe.” His dark hair fanned her as he reached around, cupping her breasts with his arousal-slickened fingers. “A vampire of my standing should never beg.” He pinched nipples and she jumped. “You always wanted me to hurt you, didn’t you? It makes it easier to pretend you have no feelings for me. Making me into the monster you’re more comfortable with, and not the male I want to be with you.”

She bit her lip. Words would not save her, not with him. “W-what time is your cousin arriving?”

“So anxious to join with me?” he asked mockingly. “Soon but not before I have a chance to love you, Blythe,” Gianni murmured, easing her on her back. As he positioned himself, his jaws popped wide, his fangs moved down the front of her throat. He was going to feed. Something he had not done since her capture. By the look on his face, he would take his time, making it a leisurely stroll through the park, a deranged one. “We have plenty of time for this, for us.”

Just night tonight.

Still, he was not the sort of male who usually worried.

Exceptions to his rules always came without warning.

“Sire, t-the werewolves are not eating.”

Over his shoulder, he studied Luisa, a Species who ran this particular household perfectly. “Wouldn’t you consider that a good thing?” Werewolves would never partake of anything in a vampire’s house, much less
his
house. And, not long ago, he had held their queen captive here. “Presentation, Luisa,” he murmured. “Refreshments are offered to non-
feeding
guests. In return, they pretend I’m a gracious host.” Raising his chin as more appeared; he waved them in, smiling cordially. The very idea Luisa would fear werewolves in her Master’s house rankled. Presently, his Species would like nothing more than to punish her for her reckless insolence. With a lazy shrug, he decided he might tomorrow. “I scent your distress and they will, too.”

She stilled, her fear more pronounced now. This time, directed at him. “I apologize, my Master. I trust my protection in your hands.”

Apparently not. “Have you prepared a guest suite for our visitor’s arrival?”

“On your floor, as you specified,” she answered enigmatically.

Maestru never explained himself, but in this case. “She is human.” Luisa’s eyes widened a fraction, though her lips stayed shut when more guests entered. “Sixten, Kash, Oycher, welcome and quickly find the library. Qudir waits for you there.” Back to his trembling servant, he continued, “No one touches her besides Dr. Holt. Serve her as you serve me.”

“Oh, she is a sick one?”

“Healing and word of her arrival will not spread throughout the Coven by anyone’s lips.” Pinning her with steely eyes, he warned, “No one likes a chinwag, Luisa, no matter how bored you are. Now, mist off the island, awaiting my summons to return. Your fear is an irritation.”

“As you wish, sire.”

On cue. “Prince Volos, what a high honor, welcome to my home.” He gestured grandly, bowing as the prince of vampires stepped through his threshold, wearing a cowl of all things, gliding across black and white checkered marble glossed to a remarkable sheen.

“Maestru, I appreciate the magnitude of your Coven’s situation regarding rogue Habalines.”

Maestru closed the doors with his mind, passing several floor to ceiling windows gleaming under a mounting moonlight. And he didn’t need any guesses to know the werewolves were feeding from the celestial pull. Great, he thought, fire it up.

Waiting until they left the grand foyer, Prince Volos added, “I will do what I can, however; my visit is short lived. I understand your last minute call to the Dynasty was urgent and I’m the closest royal available. However, I am expected at a familial Dynasty function starting in a few hours, one I cannot miss.”

“How exciting, here in Florida?”

No answer and then, “I scent Beasts and
them
.”

“Yes, this way, if you will. And your needn’t worry about your time constraints, Sire. You can imagine, considering everyone involved, our multi-faction meetings are short, to the point.” Seeing as how Adam also attended, Marco Island’s underground facility would not host this meeting. He didn’t trust a Habaline who attacked Dru anywhere near his healing subjects. Neither would the Vojak Sanctuary welcome werewolves under any circumstances, so here they were.

“I would hope so,” he said with a curled lip.

All stood when he entered with the prince. Unquestionably, his library was a striking room paneled in warm walnut shelves lined with a variety of ancient tomes and modern writings. Probably his favorite room in this house, its Gothic design refused to blend in with the island’s casual charm. Although the oversized library boasted soaring majestic ceilings, rising to the third floor, he would be the first to admit, tonight, it seemed a bit cramped.

“Thank you for attending on such short notice,” Maestru said. “Might I make introductions? Prince Volos meet Alpha Jordan.”

“No intros necessary,” Jayce said, opening his palm for the prince to clasp. “He and my father go way back, and we’ve met a time or two.”

Would wonders never cease? “Our attending Vojaks and Ambassador to the Habalines,” Maestru said, gesturing to an impressive line of determined warriors.

Their stance reverent, yet they couldn’t drop that badass edge even for their prince. Maestru raised his brows in warning. Taking the hint, Sixten stepped forward and then bowed, knowing better than to touch an exalted one or speak directly to his highness without permission. The rest followed, kneeling, until their Prince lifted his palm, silently asking them to rise.

“Coven Master,” Prince Volos directed, “Alpha Jordan, by all means, proceed as usual.” No one found seats, the growing tension generating restless energy chairs could never contain.

“May I begin, Maestru?” Sixten asked, thrusting a hand through his hair. His form-fitting suit a classic Gucci, in all appearances, he looked like a model instead of a ruthless warrior. Yes, looks were undeniably deceiving.

“Please do, Ambassador Kovac.” Maestru moved to his fireplace. A reflective spot he enjoyed on any other night.

“In our last meeting,” Sixten stopped, swallowing so hard his throat bobbed. “I was disrespectful to you, Alpha Jordan, and I offer my apologies.”

“I’m unaware of any time you’ve been
respectful
,” Jayce said with a shrug, crossing his brutal arms, “so I’ll need a refresh on that, Ambassador.”

“Most of you know my brain never walks a straight line. My Habaline father must have been purely potent, and breeding with my mother’s inherent Vojak lines, the two clashing powers skitter from here to there, more often than not.
Often during inopportune
moments.
Meaning, I’m rarely a straight shooter when my mouth goes off. Instead of snarling and hissing as any vampire would over the remarks made about my mate, I basically told the Beta to go fuck himself,” he explained, fidgeting with his favorite blade. “I apologize for forcing the Beta’s hand in releasing his familial hold over Blythe. I was under duress, using threats I had no right to use.” Cheekbones sharpened. Fangs stretched. “From the beginning, I never sought permission for Blythe’s hand from her nearest male, and marked her before your Pack offered her a chance at rights to mate. As she is a…” he stopped again, pumping his hands but he couldn’t stall the claws, “werewolf and deserves a chance to be celestially mated.”

“Okay, easy fix. A Beast won’t care if a vampire marked her.” Jayce blinked, seemingly surprised in this turn of events. “Rights to mate can still be offered if Blythe’s willing, and, of course, after she’s brought home. As a male who has experienced your pain, I admire your bravery in this, in returning her to her family. Since my Beta isn’t in attendance, hunting Blythe as we meet, I accept you relinquishing your claim and your apology on behalf of the Ruyters.”

“Well,” Sixten said hoarsely, securing eyes with a monstrosity nearly identical to Bane, though his eyes matched Blythe’s cognac, not the typical werewolf blue. “Yesterday,” he started again, his voice cracking.

Jax Ross continued after a go-ahead from Jayce. His exhaustion plaintive, Jax wheeled himself forward, had been hunting nonstop since arriving from Scotland. Even though a Habaline snapped his spine, and his healing was negligible compared to what an immortal commonly recovered from, he insisted on representing his family himself. “Yesterday,” he continued for Sixten, “the ambassador made this right with our family. Agreeing with Alpha Jordan, I also commend your bravery, Sixten.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, deep shadows marring eyes tightened with strain and obvious pain. “Alpha Ciaran sends his word, his protection will cover Blythe, and he wholly welcomes my sister into our Scottish Pack. And let it be known to all.” Jax dropped his hand, fixing those drained eyes on Sixten, his intention crystal clear. “I will never relinquish that hold back to you.”

The tension shot up, the room a deafening quiet, until Prince Volos shifted awkwardly. “May I clarify?” He stepped closer to Sixten, tilting his head in question, “You gave up your claim on your Bride
yesterday
. And she is under Pack law, werewolf law?”

“She is, Prince Volos,” Sixten said reverently, bowing his head.

He pursed his lips, thinking. “Very well, can we proceed to the topic of rogue Habalines?”

“Of course.” Maestru motioned for Qudir to introduce Adam, a creature they were using for everything he was worth, and he emphasized
using
.

“Most of you have heard about Adam and his band of rogues who escaped from one of Rave’s underground…facilities and attacked our own.” Qudir eyed the room, before locking eyes with Prince Volos and then Jayce Jordan. “He’s asked for a consideration to -”

“Attacked Species, Undead, or property?” The prince interrupted.

Qudir moved uneasily. “All three.”

“You present him for the deathblow?” He asked Maestru. “My pleasure.”

“As it would be mine and the rest of our gathering, except.”

“Except?” He curled an arrogant brow.

“Adam has information correlating to pertinent Habaline laboratories, and our Sixten has confirmed them through records taken from the very facility that imprisoned Adam. In fact, we believe through Adam and Sixten’s collaboration, we can pinpoint their exact function.”

“Exact function?”

“Yes, my sire, we have proof Habalines held Donor blood slaves underground for feeding their breeds, and then some. The ‘then some’ we are in the process of investigating fervently.” Jayce and Bane had learned of Donors some time ago, so there wasn’t any point in pretending they didn’t exist.

“I should say so,” Volos nearly gasped, but held firm. Without Donors,
he
wouldn’t exist. “And dislodge them?”

No one wanted to say war in a joint faction meeting, not even Maestru. “It would appear so, your highness. Problem is. Adam insists human chemists were in and out constantly without having their memories swiped, and we find that puzzling.”

“Human chemists?” Volos shook his blonde head, so uncharacteristically light for a Dynasty Vampyr. “The trade of blood slaves has gone on since our beginnings, why chemists?” He brought his hands out, palms up. “Why is there human involvement, other than for providing nourishment?”

Superiority, humans were still, and always would be, cattel to Volos. Pathetic. If Maestru could move past that ingrain notion, with great effort and discipline, others might. Of course, that would take a lot of effort on any vampire’s part, and predators forever considered the weak fair game, fair hunting.