15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Omaera
I gaped at Drak. “How the hell did you find me?”
He rolled his blue eyes. “Same way I found you the first time. And the second. And the third.”
I whipped back around to face the shifter. He’d gone pale in the face and his eyes grew wide with fear. “Wh-who are you?” he stammered.
I lifted a brow. “None of your business. But King Ryden and King Howar are close personal friends of mine.”
His gaze flicked back up to Drak, then to me. He nodded vigorously. “Y-yes, of course. My sincerest apologies.” He scrambled out of his seat, the intimidating man with different colored eyes no longer there. What replaced him was a scared puppy with his tail between his legs, who could not get out of there fast enough.
As much as I was irritated at seeing Drak, it was kind of fun to put the run on someone who thought they could threaten me.
It did make me pause and wonder if my demonness was part of the reason why I was so good at poker though. Was Delia’s spell strong enough to mask all of my capabilities? Or were some of them too powerful for even her spell and leaked through, like the subconscious power of persuasion? Was I a cheater? A subconscious cheater?
A hand thrust forward. “I suppose congratulations are in order.” I glared at the hand with the douchey rings, perfectly manicured nails, and the ace of spades tattoo on the inside of his wrist. How utterly cliché could you get? And he would literally tell anybody who asked, it was because he always had an “ace up his sleeve.” BARF!
Lifting my gaze, I didn’t bother to take Ricky’s hand. “Thank you.”
After an awkward moment with his hand out and mine not , he retracted it back beside him. “So, when are we going to stop playing this cat-and-mouse game, Omaera?”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. You’re a rat, and I’m . . . well, I’m more of a bear person than a cat person.”
Drak made a noise behind me. I stowed my smile as best I could.
“We could make a killing doing the rounds, Maer-Maer. You and me, hustling by night, tangled up in the sheets by day. We could go to Vegas and slaughter at the tables. Enter tournaments. Take this to Monaco. I don’t know why you stick close to home when there are millions to be made outside the comfort of the Pacific Northwest. You’re playing it safe. Too safe.”
I rolled my eyes and exhaled. “So many bad ideas to unpack here. I uh . . . no. No thanks, on all of those offers. I make very good money. I don’t need or want more. I’m happy with my life. Besides, you’re way too old for me.” I also had three way better looking mates at home waiting for me. They might be older than dirt, but at least they didn’t smell like cigar smoke and have terrible cliché tattoos or fingers covered in douchey rings.
Ricky scoffed and shook his head. “We always need more money. And I’m only thirty-one. How old are you? Also, I like ‘em young.”
I resisted the urge to vomit from that last comment. I also refused to bite and tell him my age. Too many people were listening to our conversation already. “I’m not like you, Ricky,” I finally said. “And thank god for that. Bye now.” I made to reach down and grab the hem of my T-shirt since I usually wore a baggy one to games to collect my chips, but realized I was in a crop top. Ugh.
“Here,” Drak said, removing his suit coat and helping me scoop them off the table.
“This your . . . boyfriend?” Ricky asked, giving Drak a quick up and down once over. “He’s definitely older than me. Or is he your bodyguard”
“Something like that,” I grumbled. As much as I hated Ricky C., I also didn’t want to br?lée his brains. At least not in front of so many people.
Drak looked damned fine in his black, button-up dress shirt and black slacks. Who knew the monochrome bat could be so sexy? He held my winnings in his coat against his chest and growled at Ricky. “Excuse us, please.”
Ricky’s amber eyes went wide with fright, but he stepped back, flipping his floppy, blond, frat boy hair and allowing Drak and I to move through the crowd toward Marty so I could cash in my winnings.
“Not here, but we are going to have a very serious conversation about your inability to respect boundaries,” I murmured, almost under my breath, as we waited for Marty to pay me out.
Drak’s gaze remained level with mine, but he didn’t say anything.
“Decent haul tonight, Omaera,” Marty said, counting out my cash in hundred-dollar bills. “Any big plans for all your winnings?”
“Just rent and food, Marty. You know I’m not a fancy girl.” This was the conversation we had every time I played, and Marty was the cashier. It was a running joke between us now.
He chuckled and finished up. I tipped him well like I always did, made sure to tip my server again, as well as Cane, who was already dealing up a new game. “Buy your cranky mom something nice,” I said, tapping the dealer on the shoulder and handing him a hundred dollars.
“I sure will,” he said with a big grin. “Thanks.”
After pulling the baby diaper out of my purse and storing my wads of cash inside it, I gave a jerk of my head toward Drak, indicating he should follow me. We made our way back up the spiral staircase to the lounge.
I tipped Damien on my way out. “Heard you won big,” he said.
“And now, I will humbly take my winnings home.”
He winked at me.
Drak growle d
I rolled my eyes.
I was half way to the front door when a strong, cool hand on my elbow hauled me backward.
“Hey!”
But it was Drak, so I calmed down . . . a little.
He had me in a small, dark, secluded alcove and was pulling me along further. Past the washrooms and toward a closet.
We stopped before we reached the closet door.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” he said with another growl, his gaze hard to read in the dim light.
I jerked free of his grasp and gave a growl of my own. “I’ll do whatever I damn well want to. Not only am I a free woman, but I am not your mate. Don’t you ever tell me what to do again.”
He winced a little, which is how I realized I was flash-frying his brain. I quickly pulled back my rage, gathered those thoughts and contained them in my mind. His expression relaxed.
“Why did you follow me? Don’t you understand boundaries? Space? The need to be alone?”
“You are in danger,” he said. “I am your mate, and even though you are unequivocally an enormous pain, it is my duty to protect you.”
My heart slammed hard against my ribs, and my chest heaved as my eyes adjusted to the lack of light. And as if truly possessed, something changed inside Drak as I watched. His pupils dilated, his nostrils flared and that same feral look of obsession, of craving from earlier today, flashed in his eyes.
Holy shit! How did I forget about the . . . the blood lust, or whatever we were calling it? The capsule from Mr. Fiddleman was wearing off.
His lips parted and his fangs dropped down as his pulse matched mine, causing the vein in his neck to throb. I licked my lips, unable to peel my eyes away from his.
The man was infuriating. An undeniable pain in my ass. He was pompous and arrogant. Cold and aloof. He didn’t care about my feelings or my heart. He wanted to mate because that was what we were supposed to do. He wanted to control me. He wanted to possess me.
And yet, at this very moment, that was all I wanted too.
“I don’t like you,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“You’re not exactly a joy to be around either.”
That made me smirk.
“What kind of name is Drak anyway?”
“It’s my name.”
“Were you named after Dracula?”
“Bram Stoker’s Dracula came out in 1897. I’m much older than that.”
Even though we were having a conversation as casually as two people on the bus together, we were both out of breath, unable to peel our eyes away for even a second. My panties flooded, and we were close enough now, with our hips touching, that I could feel his growing arousal.
“So, maybe Dracula was based on you?”
The corner of his mouth tipped up less than an inch. “It was based on Vlad the Impaler. Who died before I was born. Not a nice guy, from what I’ve been told.”
“So maybe it was based on you. Hence the name?”
“Are you saying I’m not a nice guy?”
I huffed a laugh. “Maybe you were Vlad the Impaler and you’re older than you say you are.”
He didn’t respond.
Our words were no more than whispers. Sexy whispers between two people who couldn’t stand each other, yet neither person wanted to pull away. The longer we stood in that dark hallway, the more I needed to find out exactly what he’d do to me if given the chance.
“You’re a control freak,” I said, my chest rising and falling faster than ever.
“And you’re a brat who takes unnecessary risks.”
“You have boundary issues.”
“You don’t know when to listen to reason. ”
“I could toast your brain right now.”
“Then do it.” The way his pupils darkened to absolute midnight was mesmerizing.
Our faces were inches apart now. He had my back against the wall, boxed in by his enormous, broad frame.
I swallowed, and his gaze dropped to my throat. To my neck, and what I’m sure was a plump, juicy vein. “What happens when you bite? Will it turn me into . . . you?”
Another ghost of a smile. “No. Only Phaceanesh turn people, if they can control themselves not to completely drain the person and kill them. My species is only born.”
Well, that was a relief.
“You will feel pleasure unlike anything ever before,” he added. “When I bite you.”
I swallowed again and licked my lips. His gaze followed my tongue and his nostrils flared.
“You need to stop following me.”
“No.”
No?
Just “ no” ?
Well, that got my temper flaring again. I tried to shove him away, but he wouldn’t budge. The capsule from the spellcaster was wearing off, and he was getting stronger by the second.
Huffing and puffing, I glared up at him. “You’re such an asshole.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I hate you.”
He still didn’t say anything.
I shoved him again, and an unexpected sob choked out of my throat. “I hate you. Did you hear me?”
His mouth opened and his fangs dropped even lower while at the same time, his gaze turned hooded. He pulled in a deep breath and closed his eyes for just a moment, while at the same time a deep, primitive rumble reverberated in his chest.
“I hate you.” My words were more of a whimper than anything now.
He gripped my chin with his finger and thumb, forcing me to look at him. He was a tattered thread away from snapping and going fully feral on me. I could see the crumbling restraint in his eyes. He knew what was happening. We both did. And there was no way to stop it now.
With one more tension-filled look between us, I took a deep breath and leaped up onto his hips at the same time our mouths crashed together. His hands kneaded my ass cheeks as his big body plastered me up against the wall. I had one arm looped around his neck while the other hand fished along the wall for the doorknob to the storage closet. I found it, and thank god, it was unlocked. We tumbled inside, where it was completely dark. Not even a sliver of light seeped in from under the door.
But I didn’t fucking care.
His hands were everywhere, but mostly on my jeans, searching for the button and zipper. I was back on my feet and swatted his hand away because I could do it faster myself.
I unbuttoned them and shimmied them down my legs. But those damned combat boots I loved so much took a bit of finessing to get off my feet so I could peel out of my pants.
I ditched my pants and underwear, then scrambled in the dark for the front of his pants, but he pushed me away and dropped to his knees, cupping my ass and hauling me forward. His hands were surprisingly cool. Not icy cold, but cool. Even his lips were cool.
“No,” I protested. “I have my period.” I tried to shove him away.
“I know,” he said, pressing his nose to the top of my mound. “I need to taste you.”
“I . . .” Why was I so turned on by the idea of this? What the fuck was wrong with me?
His tongue darted out and flicked my clit. My leg spasmed.
Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and there actually was a small strip of muted light pouring in from under the door. He guided my right foot up onto an overturned bucket to better expose me.
I loved my menstrual cup, but emptying it could be a messy process, so if I knew I was going to be away from home for any length of time, I put in a tampon instead.
This was one of those occasions.
A gentle tug on the string at the same time he flicked my clit again had me sucking in a sharp breath. “I have to,” he said, his voice hoarse with restraint. “I need to.”
I needed this too.
God, how I needed it.
“Okay,” I breathed, nodding even though I wasn’t sure he’d be able to see me.
He tugged again on the string, and the tampon slid out. I’m not sure where he put it, but I’m hoping it was in the garbage or something. I had spare tampons in my purse, so it wasn’t like I needed it to get home.
His tongue flicked out again, only this time, instead of hitting my clit, he probed inside of me. Fucking me with that long, skilled muscle. Just like his hands and lips, his tongue was cool, too. It was almost like he’d just brushed his teeth and was going down on me with a cool, minty mouth. My hot-for-him body didn’t know how to handle the difference in temperature, yet, I also didn’t want it to stop. It tingled and sent icy zaps racing through me until my nipples beaded in my bra and goosebumps broke out along my arms.
I exhaled and ground against him, bucking into his face. His nose hit my clit, and I gasped. The scent of blood and my arousal filled the small closet, suffocating the initial smell of industrial cleaner, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything, but how fucking hot—and weird—this was. But the weirdness turned me on too.
I’d never been one to get too wild in bed. Sure, I dabbled with handcuffs, blindfolds, and I’d even let one guy spank me. But this was a whole new level of kinky I’d never even fathomed.
He moaned in pleasure and that just spurred me on too. I gripped his thick, silky hair, holding him in place as he feasted on me—literally.
Two fingers probed inside of me and pumped, as his lips encircled my clit again and he sucked, sending another cool, refreshing rush through my veins.
I cried out and held onto his hair tighter.
An orgasm unlike anything I’d ever felt before brewed hot and wild in my lower belly. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t think of anything but how badly I wanted Drak. How badly I needed him.
He removed his fingers and pushed his tongue back inside me while those same fingers found my clit and rubbed perfect circles.
It wasn’t until he withdrew his tongue just enough to flick the hood of my clit with his fang, making me gasp from the sharp snap of pleasure coated in pain, then he dove his tongue back inside and I exploded. I was unprepared for how hard the climax was going to hit me, and I nearly fell off the overturned bucket and into the wall of cleaning supplies behind me. But Drak’s free hand shot out and gripped my ass hard, holding me in place so I could finish out my orgasm.
I rode his face with zero shame, tilted my head to the ceiling and let the warmth, and wave after wave of unadulterated bliss, flood me from top to toe and back. A sob broke free of my throat, but I didn’t even care. Tears pricked my eyes as my body convulsed with each fresh strike of pleasure.
Drak never stopped.
He never slowed down.
He just kept sinking his tongue into me. Kept rubbing my clit.
He did the whole fang on clit thing again, which just made one orgasm roll into another. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to stay standing. But he held me in place with his hand on my ass, his fingers digging into my flesh. Thankfully, I liked that added bit of pain and contact. It just pushed the pleasure all that much higher.
As I began to come down from orgasm number two, he pulled his head away. I couldn’t look down at him though. I couldn’t see my blood all over his face. As hot as this was, I was grateful for the dark.
He stood up to his full height, unbuckled his pants, and fished out his erection. I might not have been able to look at his face, but I had no problem staring at his cock .
Holy shit.
He reached behind me, gripped my ass, and I leaped up onto his hips again. It took very little effort for him to notch himself properly at my core and slide home. We both moaned as I sunk down, taking every inch of him I could.
His grunts were savage and primal, and that just pitched me to new heights of arousal. I’d never come more than once with any sexual partner, but I already knew I could come again—and possibly, again. Maybe it was that we were Fated Mates, maybe it was some vampire voodoo spell, or the fact that I was bleeding and he was in blood lust. Or maybe the perpetually grumpy vampire was just that good. I had very little brain power to delve into the maybes. So I ignored them, putting them into the back of my brain to entertain later, and instead, I gave over to the moment. To the desire racing through me.
Drak bucked up harder and harder, grunting with each thrust. I bobbed up and down on his waist, using his shoulders for leverage. The way his pubic bone hit my clit just galvanized everything higher, better, and had me chasing orgasm number three at an alarming speed.
I tilted my face to the ceiling again as the pressure in my belly grew hot and tight. I was close, and as hard as I tried to hang on, I couldn’t.
I broke again with a sharp, gasping cry and at the same time Drak plunged his fangs into my neck, hurling my entire soul up into the stratosphere as the orgasm of all orgasms threatened to kill me.
Heat radiated out from where his fangs punctured my flesh, creating magical sparkles and tingles I’d never felt before all throughout my body. Usually my clit and core were the epicenter of my climax, but now I had two orgasm nuclei in my body. He removed his fangs and replaced them with his mouth where he sucked, pulling blood from my jugular and once again, feasting on me.
The more he sucked, the harder and stronger my orgasm. I never wanted it to end.
My leg muscles shook around his waist. My toes curled and cramped, and my clit throbbed as his pelvic bone continued to rub against it.
I barely registered his grunts and moans, or that he’d paused his own efforts and was coming. My orgasm was still going. I wasn’t going to have a fourth orgasm. I was never going to have any more orgasms after this, because this one was never going to end.
And I was kind of okay with a death like this.
Didn’t the French call the orgasm la petite mort , anyway? Little death.
Well, this was a big death, and I was on board for it. Kill me now, Bat Boy. I’m going to meet my parents with a smile on my face—and no pants.
He stopped sucking and swept his tongue across the puncture marks as he continued to lose himself inside me, finding his own release.
I didn’t think it would happen, but I was both saddened and grateful when the tremors and pleasure receded. There were a few aftershocks, but my toes stopped cramping and I could hear things besides my own thundering heart again.
After a few stuttered breaths, he helped me to my feet. I wobbled instantly, but Drak was there to keep me from keeling over into the mop and bucket.
“I . . . I need to put in a new tampon,” I said, still in a daze, as I searched the floor for my dropped purse. I located it, breathing a sigh of relief because my purse also had all my winnings.
I spun around and inserted the new tampon then went on the hunt for my underwear and pants.
I dressed quickly, making sure to keep my back to Drak until I was presentable. I also really didn’t want to see his face.
Reality was hitting me like a slap to the face with a wet cloth.
I’d just hate-fucked a vampire who also ate me out while I was on my period. And all of this happened in a bar storage closet. Now we had to leave while his face was covered in my blood.
None of this was good.
“You can turn around now,” he said, his aristocratic tone back like it’d never left.
“I don’t want to see my blood all over your face.”
“It’s not.”
I whipped around where, sure enough, his face was void of the evidence. “H-how?” I asked .
He pointed to the sink and roll of brown, bathroom paper towels along the far wall.
Nodding, I exhaled in relief. “Let’s get out of here.”
His head bobbed as well. I poked my head out the door to double-check that the coast was clear before stepping out into the hallway. He followed me, and we beelined it for the front door. The bartenders—Alex and Felix—called my name and said goodbye. I only gave them a cursory wave and smile, keeping my head ducked down until I hit the sidewalk.
Drak stayed a pace behind me as I made my way toward the bus stop.
I was looking more at my feet than in front of me, which was why I ran headfirst into a honey and cedar-scented bare chest.
“Whoa there, Little One,” Zandren said, gripping me by the shoulders.
I glanced up at him, my face instantly getting hot. Maxar was behind him.
They both sniffed the air for a moment and their gazes shifted to Drak, darkening like someone had just snuffed out the sun.
“You okay?” Maxar asked. He stepped to the side and addressed Drak. “Would have been nice if you’d let us know about your little field trip.” His gaze turned more serious, and he focused on me again. “He hasn’t taken a capsule in hours . . . did he? Are you okay?”
“We uh . . . we handled things,” I said. “But he should probably take one now.”
Nodding, Maxar reached into the pocket of his genie pants and pulled out the brown bottle. He dumped one capsule onto his palm and held it out for Drak.
The vampire took it and swallowed without argument.
“You had me worried sick, Little One. Drak’s gone, and you’re gone. I didn’t know what happened.” Zandren gently cupped my jaw. “Why did you leave?”
My sigh was weary and defeated. The way he was looking at me had me feeling all kinds of guilty. I felt like if I’d told Zandren my need for some space, he would understand, considering how he likes his space and alone time too. Why didn’t I trust that he’d understand? Why didn’t I confide in him?
“I just needed to be by myself for a little bit,” I finally said. “I wanted my old life back, even if just for one night. I went to a poker game. I only played one game, but I won.” I lifted up my purse. “Lunch is on me.” My humorless chuckle was a meager and unsuccessful attempt to soften the tense moment between the four of us.
Zandren still had my jaw cupped. His brown eyes softened in the harsh glow of the orange streetlamp overhead. “I get that. Please, just tell me you need space next time, so I don’t worry.” He was hurt, but he was trying hard not to show it.
I nodded. “I will. I promise.”
He and Maxar nodded. It was all they really could do. They couldn’t punish me. Though, to be honest, I was kind of curious what kind of punishment they could come up with. But more than anything, I wanted them to stop looking at me like I’d betrayed them because I didn’t trust them enough to tell them the truth. I didn’t trust them because I didn’t know them.
No, that wasn’t true.
I didn’t know them very well, and I was slow to trust in general. But my gut told me I could trust them. And I was beginning to—especially Zandren. Our time in the woods showed me another side of him and I wanted so badly to believe his intentions were good and pure. “I want to go home and check on Gemma,” I said, smothering a yawn with my fist. “Did anybody check on her before they followed me?”
All three of them shook their heads.
I rolled my eyes. “You know. She and I are a package deal. So if this whole Fated Mates thing is actually the way our lives are going to go, then Gemma is part of this fucked up quadruple.”
“No, she’s not,” Drak said.
I spun around and glared at him. “Yes. She is. You might not want to fuck her and sink your teeth into her, but she’s family. She’s my family. The only family I have left. So you better start giving a damn about her if you want me to start giving a damn about you. ” Then I stomped off ahead of all of them toward the bus stop, not giving two shits whether they followed me or not.
But, of course they did. And something told me, they always would.