4. Isidoro #2
Julian twists his head back as if he can sense my bloodlust. He flips me off.
I snarl. His face contorts in a mix of determination and fear, or maybe reverence.
It’s hard to tell sometimes. Confusing. Usually, it seems that he abhors me, that he would like nothing more than to behead me and display my head in a jar.
But earlier, his intent stare suggested a different story, one of respect, admiration, awe, even if I am his enemy.
So far, I’ve not been able to decipher which is real.
Either way, this little chase game is about to end.
I pick up speed, intending to cut him off right in front of the security checkpoint. Two humans are employed as the guards, and I’d rather save them the disruption. I know they like to watch shows during quiet hours.
Just as I am about to strain myself for the last stretch, Julian suddenly veers sharply to the left, leaving the main driveway. He vaults over the rhododendron and hydrangea that crest the pebble-covered path and heads straight for the helicopter pad.
I curl my lip. As if I’d let him reach it. And even if I decided to play with him a bit more and allowed that, what exactly is his plan? It’s not like he can fly the thing.
I channel some of my power for a final sprint.
Before Julian can even realize what’s happening, I’m already by the helicopter, traversing this last bit of distance with the help of my enhanced mist-like speed.
It tends to look like teleportation to most, but it’s just extreme speed that my clan has mastered over the centuries.
Julian reaches the heli pad a second after me, his eyes wide and terrified.
He tries to avoid me, to step away in the last millisecond, but it’s too late.
I hold up my arm, and he slams throat-first into it.
The collision steals the air from his lungs and flips his momentum upwards, his feet leaving the ground before he crashes onto his back.
Sweat shimmers across his forehead, down his neck, where a mark from its impact with my forearm is already forming.
Leaning against the helicopter, I watch him cough and choke and struggle to catch his breath. Good. Let this be a lesson. He needs to learn his place. Some humility, too.
He sits up eventually. Those hatred-filled dark red eyes lock on me. I shiver. Not from fear, not from the murderous intent in them, but from anticipation. Prickles pepper my spine, hot and tingling, spreading all over me.
What will he do next? Should I let him? Or should I end this already?
Julian takes the choice away from me in the next second as he hops up in one fluid motion and charges headfirst at me.
Our collision is hard and abrupt, unexpected I’d dare say, and we crash to the dewy grass in a tangle of limbs.
He ends up on top of me, snarling and growling as he tries to get hold of my neck.
His eyes burn like blood moons in the sky, focused on me and only me as if nothing else in the world exists.
I bask in that for a heartbeat, entranced, my senses hijacked.
Then the moment passes as quickly as it came to be.
Hissing, I grab his right wrist and twist, rolling us over.
I am the one pinning him down now, but the difference is that I leave him no room for recovery.
He can’t overpower me, no matter what he tries or how much he glowers at me.
Not yet. Maybe if he was older, over a hundred and had fully come into his strength, he would stand a chance. But he’s not.
“Fuck you, Isidoro!” he grunts, arching his back up from the ground to throw my balance off. “Asshole, bastard, dickhead tyrant, go fuck yourself!”
His words and actions do little to sway me.
I press my thighs harder into his sides, demobilizing him further as I squeeze his chin with one hand.
Faster than I’d expected, he plunges his teeth into my flesh and tries to bite off two of my fingers.
A flash of bright red touches his eyes at the first taste of my blood, and I don’t know what happens to me, but next thing I know I’m leaning in way too close.
He groans, licking his lips and the blood clinging to them. I transfix on his mouth, wet, pink, inviting. His scent invades my nostrils, sweeter, richer than before and carrying a hint of me. It’s the most enticing aroma in the whole world, and it pulls me in.
I can’t fight it. Need floods me, intense and merciless.
Julian groans and tries to shake me off.
His leg brushes against my cock. Electricity zaps through me.
My entire world narrows down to him, to this exhilarating man I’ve pinned to the ground.
He can’t go anywhere, he’s at my mercy. Struggling, irresistible as he fights me futilely in an attempt to slip out of my hold.
He can’t get far. I can do to him whatever I want.
And right now, I lean in further, drawn in by everything that Julian Corvath is, by his eyes, red as fresh blood and shining with a ferocity that threatens to overwhelm me, by his enticingly sweet scent that carries a hint of the night sky, by the full, bloodstained lips.
He’s beautiful, in a savage yet delicate way. I should get away from him, I can’t be this close, it’s too dangerous, but…
Julian growls, baring his teeth and kicking his feet in another attempt to get rid of me. “What the fuck are you doing, man? You aren’t going to kiss me, are you?”
I freeze, staring at him. My pulse stutters, a jolt of cold clarity slicing through me as my mind goes blank, like something inside me has short-circuited. It might well have. What was I doing? What took over me? What the hell was I—With this man, who is the son of my enemy.