Bewitched by the First Vampire

Chapter 1 – Rorik

I’ve kidnapped a witch.

It’s nothing new. I used to kidnap witches all the time. But it’s been years.

Centuries.

I’m a better man now.

A better vampire.

Or so I thought.

I couldn’t help myself. The moment I locked eyes with the gorgeous redhead, the world silenced.

Literally!

As the first vampire, I’m cursed. I cannot die. The sun’s rays do nothing to me. And I can hear thoughts.

My head is a constant static. Thoughts from those around me pour into my head nonstop.

The only solution is isolation from living beings, but I found loneliness to be more maddening.

So, I learned to turn the volume down, but it takes a lot of work and becomes exhausting.

The never-ending hum fails to fade away no matter how many shields I put up.

Until her.

The lost little lamb with no memory of who she is. The woman who made the noise stop.

She’s breathtaking. Tall and voluptuous. A thick and soft body with dips and dimples surely made for my hands and lips to worship. Pale skin dotted with freckles. Fiery red hair that curls and falls down her back and over her shoulders.

She has beautiful, vibrant tattoos up and down her arms. Colorful flowers—snapdragons I believe—with a crescent moon and smoke weaved throughout.

And she has tenacious green eyes that are filled with fury as she snarls at me.

“Take me back,” she says. The words are confident despite the waver in her voice. “You had no right to kidnap me.”

“Oh?” I walk around the chair she’s tied to.

I’ve brought her to one of my secret apartments on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.

After securing her to the chair in the middle of my living room, I drew the curtains shut.

I have privacy on the top floor, but I couldn’t chance being spotted by a gargoyle or another supernatural creature patrolling the night skies searching for us.

And they are searching.

It wasn’t exactly the best idea to kidnap this woman when the plan to unveil our world to mortals is weeks from being implemented.

“The least you could do is untie me.”

“So you can punch me again?”

“You’re a vampire. You can take it.”

My brow quirks up, and her cheeks immediately blush red. It’s a wonderful color against her porcelain skin.

“I just mean that you could easily kill me. Even if I did punch you again, you won’t die from it. It would barely cause a scratch. And if I succeed in knocking you down, you’re quick and strong. I wouldn’t get far before you caught me.”

She’s right, and a part of me desperately wants to let her loose so I can chase her when she inevitably runs. Would she enjoy being hunted?

As bad as that primal urge to stalk this woman battles with reason, I’m not in the mood to be attacked again.

If only I could dip into her thoughts to determine if she’s telling the truth.

Either she has the strongest shields I’ve ever encountered, or she’s immune to my… gifts. Not even my former mates, Brynn and Eden, could offer silence from the constant barrage of thoughts.

The ache when I think of them simmers at the back of my throat. I swallow hard and pace in front of my… victim.

I’m not sure what to call her. She can’t remember her name.

She can’t even recall spells; otherwise, she’d be using them to set herself free.

What I do know about her is that she’s powerful.

Extremely powerful. Her body hums with magic, but it’s being suppressed, just like her memories, I assume by her mother, Ciara.

The witch who created vampires.

The one who created me.

Ciara stole my memories shortly before turning me 3,000 years ago. She left me a monster, craving blood, with no explanation as to who or what I was. I learned my name because of the people who pleaded with me. People who were my family and friends, begging me not to drain them of blood.

Rorik, my love, please. I am your wife. These are your children.

My family.

They were the first of many lives I ended.

Years of leaving behind body after body, I eventually learned how to control my thirst. Then it took decades for me to piece together my life once I realized whatever spell Ciara cast was slowly fading.

Yet I could never remember how I became a vampire.

The only memory I had from the night I was turned into a monster was the smell. Ciara’s smell. Earth, an underlying decaying scent, smoke and herbs, and a hint of something floral.

A scent I’ll never forget and one I hadn’t come across until recently.

When we gathered an army to fight the monster hunters who kidnapped the mate of Locheran, a soldier for the gargoyle king’s army, that scent was the only thing that allowed us to track his human down.

The hunters were getting help from Ciara. We came face to face with the witch and her hunter army but during the battle, she escaped.

Like a fucking coward.

Tracking her down might be difficult now that I know her daughter can't remember shit. Does she even know her mother is the one who stole her memories? Likely using the same black magic used on me.

I told myself the reason I kidnapped her daughter was to use her as bait. To lure Ciara out of hiding. But clearly Ciara wants nothing to do with her. Not after learning she sold her own daughter to the monster hunters in exchange for their help with her world domination plan.

Ciara wants the supernatural world revealed to humans, but not in unity. She wants them to bow down to the powerful monsters. She wants them to serve us. She wants them dead.

Every plan of hers to reign over New York City has failed so far. She will not win.

Now the witch is nowhere to be found.

And I’ve kidnapped her daughter.

This woman was a prisoner of the hunter clan and now I’ve made her a prisoner again.

I’m no better than them.

But now that I have her in my… possession… there’s no way I’m giving her back. Not when she brings me relief from the roar of thoughts plaguing my every waking minute. Not when she’s the first spark of light in my world of darkness in centuries.

I push the thoughts away.

“It’s true,” I say to the lost little lamb. “You can’t harm me, but I can still feel pain, and the only pain I enjoy is in the bedroom.”

“Please,” the woman pleads, not fazed by my heated words. “I’m not built for this.”

My brows furrow. “Built for what?”

“A kidnapping!” she growls. I ignore the way her anger excites my cock. “I’m forty-three for fuck’s sake. My knees hurt, my lower back aches, and now you have my hands tied behind my back as if I’m a flexible twenty-something year old. I. Cannot. Feel. My. Fingers.”

I stifle my smile at her bluntness. Part of me wants to keep her tied up so this fury can unravel further. But I’m hesitant to let her go because she’ll certainly try to escape again. While she’s correct that I would be able to catch her quickly, now’s not the time for a game of cat and mouse.

Not when the gargoyles and the vampire queen are searching for me.

I tap my finger on my chin while I think about what to do.

“By all means, take your time,” she mumbles.

“Oh, Little Lamb,” I begin. “The more you mouth off to me, the harder I become.”

Her eyes widen and drop to my bulge. The beautiful blush returns, lighting up her freckled cheeks and neck.

I wasn’t lying about that mouth. She’s done nothing but gripe at me since I swiped her from the staging area in Brooklyn after she’d been rescued from the hunters’ imprisonment. Each vicious word makes my cock press against my pants, desperate to sink deep inside this feisty woman.

She turns her head away, jaw clenched and flustered.

“Stop calling me ‘Little Lamb’,” she grits out. “I am anything but little.”

I step close enough to reach out and clutch her chin. Turning her head to face me, I lean down, my lips nearly brushing hers.

“Then what should I call you? Because, if I recall, you don’t know your name.”

Instead of answering, she snaps her teeth, nearly clamping down on my lips, but I’m too fast and step back.

I chuckle and move around the chair until I’m behind her. Clutching her long, curly hair, I jerk the strands. A gasp, which nearly sounds like a moan, escapes her, and the scent of her arousal fills the air.

She likes it rough?

I can give it to her rough.

“Naughty little lamb,” I whisper next to her ear.

My chest aches at her nearness, enough that I need to release my hold on her hair and put some distance between us. It happens every time I touch her. As if my undead heart is trying to rip from my body.

Which can only mean one thing—

“Aurora.” My back stiffens at the woman’s uncertain voice. “I think my name is Aurora.”

It’s beautiful.

It means dawn. New beginnings. Light.

Aurora and Rorik.

Our names go well together.

Slowly, I turn back around to face her.

“Aurora,” I say, my voice deep and wanting.

My little lamb squirms in the chair. The scent of her arousal thickens, and I’m no longer able to keep my fangs sheathed. Aurora’s eyes widen again as she watches them drop. Her heart responds by drumming frantically inside her chest.

She’s scared.

But equally turned on.

“No,” she says.

“No?”

“No biting. I don’t give you permission.”

My laugh is manic.

“You think I give a shit about consent?”

I do, but I won’t tell her that. Her fear is just as intoxicating as her desire. I need more of it. All of it.

All of her.

“I… I will tell the vampire queen. She knows about me, about what you did. I met her after I was rescued.”

“Ah, but she has no idea where I’ve brought you.” Aurora grimaces. “And you can’t snitch if you’re dead.”

“You won’t kill me.” She lifts her chin, and I admire her defiance. “You need me.”

I take a menacing step toward the chair. She leans back as if that will help distance her from me.

“You think so?”

She nods. Her entire body trembles from fear… and lust.

She’s experiencing both, and the emotions are overpowering. Enticing.

“You kidnapped me for a reason. Tell me why.”

I stare at her for the longest time, making her squirm again. It’s such a lovely sight. How I’d love to make her squirm while underneath me.

“Tell me,” she says again.

Hesitantly, I begin explaining. “The woman helping the monster hunters. That’s your mother.”

“What? No. I don’t know that woman.”

Her tone is unsure.

Because she can’t remember her mother.

“She’s also the reason you were imprisoned by monster hunters. She gave you to them.”

“Why… why would my own mother do that?”

I open my hands in front of me. “Because she’s evil.”

She doesn’t speak, processing my words. Her throat works as she swallows back the tears that shine in her betrayed eyes.

“Your mother is the one who created me. Created vampires.”

She shakes her head, then whips it up with a gasp, eyes wide.

“The first vampire?!”

“So, you do remember?”

I cross my arms, resisting the urge to shake her shoulders to tell me more. To tell me what she knows.

“No. I mean, sort of. It was a flash of memory. My mother… she warned me about you my whole life. She told me to stay away…” Her eyes fill with tears.

Whatever memory suppression spell Ciara cast could be fading. I don’t understand how that’s possible. Black magic spells typically take decades to wear off. This isn’t an old spell, either. It smells too new. Too fresh.

“Did your mother also tell you that she could remove the curse she placed on me?”

“No. I… I don’t know. Maybe? I can’t see her face in this memory. I can’t remember anything else. It’s all so fuzzy… I’m sorry.”

She’s apologizing? I kidnapped her and demanded that she help me, yet she’s the one who’s sorry?

Fuck, she’s too pure.

“Well… if your memories are returning,” I begin. “I’ll just keep you until they’re all back and take what I need out of your head.”

It’s a lie because her thoughts are still quiet.

The sadness in her eyes transforms into fury. It’s quite impressive how quickly her emotions change.

And extremely sexy.

“Then what? You’ll kill me?”

The tears she’s been holding back fall down her cheeks. I have no doubt they’re tears of rage. She’s been so brave and defiant until now, but her body is turning on her. She’s tired of fighting me.

I stop myself from lifting a hand to wipe the wetness away and shrug instead. “I could. Or… maybe I’ll keep you around as my pet.”

“Pet? What do you mean?”

I sink to the floor, kneeling before her. My palms flatten over her thick thighs and slide up to her waist to the band of her pants.

“I’m a vampire. My senses are heightened. I can smell how excited I make you.”

Her skin flares red, and her breathing picks up, causing her chest to heave beautifully.

“No. That’s not tr… I’m not…”

I tug on her pants and slide them down. She lifts her hips, helping me remove the garment from her body.

“I don’t want this,” she says, but her needy voice contradicts the words. “I can’t.”

“You can.”

“But… I don’t even know your name!”

“I thought your mother told you about me.”

“She… she did, but I can’t remember your name.”

“Rorik. Rorik Sevier,” I growl and grip her hips to shift them down until her ass hangs off the chair. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“Please,” she whispers. She begs.

“That’s what I thought.”

I dip my head between her legs and spread her sweet pussy lips open. She whimpers the moment my mouth covers her clit.

Her scream when I suck and lash my tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves is such an addictive sound. She attempts to shut her thighs around my head, but they don’t close because I have her ankles tied to the chair.

I push her legs back open wide, keeping my hold so she can’t do it again.

She’s devastatingly exquisite spread out like this before me.

I work her clit, not too rough, but just enough to have her panting.

My fangs graze over her skin, and she jerks in the seat, pulling at the rope tied around her wrists.

“Yes! No! Stop,” she groans.

I lift my head and smile when she whines at the loss of my mouth on her cunt.

“Would you like my fingers instead?”

“Yes! No! Ugh! Fuck you. I want to be let go.”

I ignore the words and slide my middle finger inside her slick heat.

“Mmm,” I purr. “So wet for me.”

Her head falls back with a moan as I pump into her slowly. I add a second finger, then brush my thumb over her clit.

She lets out a slew of curse words between pants.

My fingers move faster now, and I return my mouth to her clit. Her legs shaking, her stomach quivering, her breathing so fast that I fear she might pass out.

I want to drink from her.

I drag my fangs over the inside of her left thigh.

I’m going to bite her.

“No. Biting.” The words are weak. She doesn’t mean them. I’m definitely not going to listen either.

The moment my fangs sink into the meaty flesh of her thigh, an orgasm erupts throughout her body.

And I wake up.