Chapter 14
Gunnar made it back to the Nizhny station in half the time. Nearing midday now, he kicked snow off his boots as he stepped inside. The mood was drastically different now, the tavern area that connected to the main doors empty. It was a mess, reeking of spilled mead and broken wood, blood and leftover food. Rina hadn’t been kidding; clean-up day was going to be its own marathon.
He moved through the station with purpose, past the kitchen entrance and the general trade area. Past the stairs to Rina’s offices and the long hallway toward private quarters in one direction and guest rooms in the other. He reached the familiar ornate double doors framed with red silk curtains and neon signs shaped like angel wings, and let himself in.
Gunnar winced. He always did when he entered the brothel. Spicy incense wafted, but it only did so much to cover the stale and fresh scents of sex and sweat. The greeting room was clean, but the private rooms were only a few feet away, separated by brocade curtains enchanted to cover sounds, not smells.
“And here Virtue didn’t think you’d show today,” a male voice crooned from the room’s far corner, its owner sprawled across a maroon velvet chaise.
Innocence wore a pink kimono that reached mid-thigh, ankles crossed and drink swirling in his free hand. The duster’s features became more feminine as he gestured to the open chaise beside him, the end table set with clean glasses and an open bottle of absinthe. He appraised Gunnar without a hint of shame, his scent ripe with interest, sexual and general, licking his lips before smiling with perfect white teeth.
“She busy?” Gunnar asked.
“She is,” Innocence said, emptying his drink and setting the glass down. “But I’m clearly unoccupied.”
“Told you before, I don’t fuck men.”
He shrugged a lithe shoulder; it was funny how subtly Innocence could shift his appearance, by inches at a time. Few had that kind of finesse, a stark reminder he was dangerous. “And I’ve told you, I suck cock far better than my sister.”
Gunnar smirked. “I’ll wait.”
“She has all the fun.” Innocence pouted, slumping in the chaise, pretense dropping as his features shifted back to his natural appearance. Still handsome, or beautiful, whatever, with lavish blond curls and sea-green eyes. He smelled hungry despite dropping the seduction attempt. Gunnar leaned against the wall, wondering if anything could fully sate him or his sister. Memories from their first encounter flitted to the surface.
Virtue and Innocence were half-siblings who shared the same incubus father; Gunnar’d picked that up over a few beers earlier that day. Innocence, however, was a duster. The man lingered back a bit, all pretty as he watched Gunnar with a hungry expression, but it was Virtue who stepped forward to greet him, her head tilted.
The difference wasn’t a matter of beauty or sexual preference. Gunnar wasn’t appraising for an evening partner yet. Aperien power steamed off the woman approaching him.
As the hybrid daughter of an incubus and succubus, no one needed to explain why she’d found herself out here in Siberia. Gunnar had a hard time imagining any Accorded Territories welcoming a being with her kind of appetite.
“I was wondering when you’d make an appearance, Jonathan,” she said, her voice low and sultry. Easy on the ears, but it grated real hard against the name that didn’t belong in her mouth.
“Gunnar,” he corrected, crossing his arms. Only one person got to call him by his new first name, and he wasn’t letting Audrey anywhere near this place.
Virtue nodded, the heavy braids draped over her well-muscled shoulder laced with gold thread. He’d never seen skin so dark, save maybe Papa Legba on the top of the Manhattan Pen. Somehow, it didn’t clash with her sea-green eyes. Everything about the Aperien was smooth and natural, down to the thin shift hugging her ample curves, teasing at darker nipples. A tall woman too, only an inch or so shorter than him.
While plain wasn’t a word he’d throw anywhere near the woman, she didn’t wear makeup or jewels, and her feet were bare. No paint on her finger or toe nails, no perfumes either. She moved like water down steam, not a care for anything, all grace and liquid sexuality.
Then he frowned, because she was shrinking right in front of him, those curves slimming down and her skin lightening. Eye color shifting to an all too familiar hazel.
Gunnar knew exactly where this shit was going.
“Don’t,” he growled. “You’re fine.”
Innocence, who’d been a silent observer—almost forgotten given the air of sex and promise rolling off Virtue to lure Gunnar in—hooted like a fucking monkey. The spell, illusion, magic, whatever Virtue radiated snapped off, leaving the room chilled.
“Did you hear that, sister dear? Former Mistress of the Velvet Emporium, Aperien whore of legend. You’re ‘fine?’” The duster doubled over, slapping his knees.
Virtue watched Gunnar with the kind of look that killed.
Shit, not the impression he’d intended.
“You can see yourself out, yes?” Virtue asked.
Right. Gunnar gave her a curt nod. Not ideal, but . . .
“Not you.”
Innocence righted himself, still cackling as he waved a hand and sauntered down the back hall. “Yes, yes, off I go. Though I expect a report later, dearest.”
They waited until he’d excused himself entirely, likely behind silencing charms. Gunnar kept his arms crossed, pretty sure the next thirty seconds decided if he’d be stuck jerking off for the foreseeable future.
“Not trying to offend,” he drawled, doing his best to sound stupid. He doubted she’d buy it, but it might help soothe those ruffled metaphorical feathers. “Just figured we could cut all the bullshit.”
Virtue raised both brows, her huffed laugh incredulous. “Bullshit, is it?”
“Your kind needs to eat. My kind needs to fuck.” He shrugged. “Rina said we pay for the sex here by letting you feed. Me? I just need to scratch that itch before it becomes an issue. You can just take what you need, no song and dance. And I’m damn sure you can feed deeper on me than the other dusters around here.”
Her expression relaxed slightly, her scent shifting from annoyed to curious. “Vilebloods do have more sexual stamina than most.” Virtue ran her thumb over her bottom lip, her gaze a living thing as it wandered over his body. “You surprise me. Most leap at the chance to indulge in what they consider forbidden.”
“Sounds like a good way to frustrate yourself into doing something stupid.”
“Or experience that which one must deny oneself. For whatever the reason.”
He bared his teeth. “Not interested.” Then he gestured between them. “And if what I’m offering don’t work for you, fine. I’ve gone years without fucking. A few more won’t kill me.”
Virtue only smiled, as if the game suddenly closed. The score, he didn’t entirely know yet, but she said, “No, it sounds . . . pleasant, to be honest.” She gestured down the hall. “Last room to the left. Would you like me to bathe first? I know your senses are more heightened than most.”
He leaned in, sniffed. She didn’t take offense. Sure enough, he smelled someone on her skin, but he didn’t know the Clan well enough to tell who she’d fucked last.
“If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I won’t be long.”
“Alright.” Gunnar scratched the back of his head. All this was too easy? Simple? “That’s it then?”
Virtue laughed as she headed toward the stairs. “Did you plan to leave without partaking?”
No. A hard, uncomplicated fuck was exactly what he needed. “Nope.”
“Then make yourself comfortable.” Virtue canted her head at him, flashing another serene smile as she ascended toward what he guessed was her personal quarters. “You’re not what I was expecting when Rina said a vileblood had come to town. With a human girl, no less.”
“Yeah, she won’t be stopping by.”
“Of course not.”
“Now look what you’ve gone and done, Gunnar,” Virtue called as she stepped into the sitting room’s warm light and leaned against the doorframe. “I owe my brother a drink.”
“Like taking candy from a baby,” Innocence mused from the chaise, tossing his curls. “But that can wait, of course. Business first.”
Gunnar ignored him as he crossed the room to Virtue, who watched him with a curious expression and the same electric gaze as her sibling.
Neither had fought during the Longest Night. They instead waited to soothe their clientele after, lovers not fighters and all that, and they’d both used their magic to help E fortify the station. He smelled the lingering effects.
Virtue stepped aside when he reached her, motioned down the hall; he knew the way. “I’ll bathe. Make yourself comfortable.”
Gunnar nodded, familiar with Virtue’s chambers now, and ducked through another set of enchanted curtains. He inhaled deeply, wondering why the enchantments that kept her room scentless couldn’t work on her skin. Same with the bed, though she’d mentioned simple cleansing magic worked fine between patrons.
He stripped down, tossing his clothes on the chair in the room’s corner, grinning as he recalled fucking her bent over it a few times. He stroked his hardening cock as he sat on the bed’s edge, making sure his thoughts stayed exactly where they belonged: on Virtue.
The Aperien made it easy. Over the years, he’d always needed to be careful with working women. He’d always been dominant in every aspect of his life, and fucking was no different. He liked things rough; he required control. His stamina tended to cause issues for dusters if nothing else did first, which left him unsatisfied after most sexual encounters.
Even if fucking Audrey wouldn’t risk killing her because she was human and he was vileblood, this part of himself—well, all parts really, but his sexual urges especially—didn’t belong anywhere near someone like her.
Someone good, everything he could never be. Someone he’d never deserve, even if by some miracle he could have her.
“Deep thoughts?” Virtue asked as she stepped into the room. Her natural scent—an unmoored mix of inviting and danger—appealed to him, the beast in his blood humming under his skin.
Virtue could handle him. Those darker parts of him wouldn’t hurt her.
That said, she’d never truly satisfied that deeper itch in him. Virtue might submit to him, but it was a service, not a fundamental truth.
“Nothing new,” Gunnar drawled, leaning back on one elbow as he watched her.
Virtue didn’t put on a show, but her entire existence was seduction. She didn’t need to try. It helped her attraction to him was genuine.
He’d been right, what he told her that first night they met. The drain she took from him, the sexual feeding, she could take more from him than most others because he wanted it gone. He wanted her to root out his lust, let him pretend he was a civilized man, even if it only worked for a few days at a time. And he never pleaded for her to leave off.
Virtue always quit first, fears of her own nature keeping her from crossing whatever invisible line she’d drawn.
She didn’t waste any time now, dropping the gossamer robe, miles of perfect legs, full curves, and night skin on display. Virtue smacked his hand from his cock, and a heartbeat later, he was buried to the hilt in her wet, welcoming cunt. They both let out satisfied moans.
“You’re injured,” Virtue noted, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades.
He fisted her braids, jerking back her head, his teeth on her jaw. Guiding those thick hips with a heavy hand on her thigh, squeezing hard, enjoying the way she filled his palms as he fucked up into her. “And?”
“An observation, nothing more.”
Virtue already fed; she never waited with him, didn’t hold off for the burst of sexual energy during an orgasm. It felt like fingertips inside his spine, his lower back, his groin. Cool and hot at the same time. An electric, unnatural jolt as she clenched her inner muscles around each thrust.
“Did Audrey patch you up?”
Gunnar flipped them with a snarl, driving her into the mattress. She arched up to meet him, heels digging into his ass, the sharp spike in her feeding making him lightheaded. He shook his head once, trying to hold off against the sensation.
“Didn’t come here to talk.”
He closed a hand around her throat. She leaned into the pressure; her eyes glowed as she licked her lips. Her pulse didn’t so much as stutter, a steady drum for all her panting.
“Here I thought . . . we’d become . . . friends, ah!” Her voice caught on a particularly violent thrust, their hips smacking together, louder now. She pressed a palm against his bare chest, reacting more than goading him.
He didn’t relent until the Aperien tumbled into an orgasm, because he had to concentrate to keep himself from following her right over the fucking edge when she practically sucked his soul out of his dick. And her feeding spiked harder when she came, his skin tingling all over, his heartbeat stuttering violently.
His instincts flared at the inherent danger.
Being vulnerable, even as the woman under him shattered and screamed.
Gunnar snarled.
It wasn’t enough. He was still too restless, too aware. He wanted to give over and let her drain him dry, even as the beast that made up his vileblood bucked in protest.
Like always, the man won, and Gunnar bit his cheek until he bled, ignored his blackening vision, and pinned one thigh to her chest as he growled and grunted with each relentless snap of his hips.
Virtue stopped feeding, gasping, moaning under him. She licked at his skin, nibbled, purring.
Relaxing.
“We’re not done,” he gritted out.
“Of course not.”
“Then keep fucking feeding.”
They didn’t talk much after that, the only sounds heavy breathing and flesh on flesh, moans from her. The drain on his senses, his life force, continued as he railed against Virtue’s body and wrestled down the instinct to break her neck before she killed him. It was dangerous, telling her to feed this long, but her eyes were glazed now, her entire body singing with magic and power as she pulled more and more. Devoured.
The beast inside him thrashed, but the man always won. He used his vileblood, not the other way around. His muscles burned, thighs cramping from the effort; all the while, Virtue’s pulse remained a steady drum under his palm.
Her brow furrowed. He shook his head. “More.”
“Gunnar.”
“What, suddenly too much for you?” He bared his teeth inches from her mouth. Hooked an elbow under her other knee.
Virtue’s magic spiked as she grabbed his wrist, her pointed nails breaking skin this time, black blood and sweat mingling before dripping down on her chest.
His hips stuttered. “Fuck, fuck.” The sensation was lightning through his veins, making his cock twitch and pulse, and he had to stop so he didn’t spill. His head swam, his lungs lurched, his heart leaping against his ribs.
But then there was a surge of pheromones from Virtue, followed by a very deliberate, slick flutter around his cock, and Gunnar came with a hoarse shout.
He rolled off her as exhaustion chased him from all sides. The fucking mental hurdles, the night-long battle, the Aperien’s feeding. “Hells.”
Virtue stood, putting on her robe and moving his clothing so she could settle on the seat across from him, her posture lazy. “I thought the Longest Night would be enough for you,” she mused.
Gunnar shrugged, much as he could lying flat on his back, still catching his breath. The room was cool, sweat already drying on his skin. He pushed himself to sitting. “You know what I am.”
“Doesn’t it ever get tired? Tossing around your nature so casually?”
“Must not.” Gunnar yawned, rubbed his face. His body felt heavy—exhausted and almost empty. The booze had burned off, and his mind felt quiet. Perfect. He’d be able to sleep a few hours now. He fumbled into his clothes, his fingers numb. “You?”
Virtue’s legs crossed as she settled deeper into her chair. “I have to feed or I’ll die, Gunnar. We aren’t comparable.”
He tugged on his shirt. “We are what we are, nothing to change it. Sounds the same to me.” Gunnar laced his boots, giving her a nod as he saw himself out. “Thanks. See you around.”