Captiva Craving - Vampire Werewolf Menage (Six Feet Under Series Book Two) (2 page)

Sixten.

Not a fragment.

But her man.

“Get off me!” Blythe screamed, moving her hands away from his sinful ass and pushing against his unyielding chest.

“Why?” His voice was guttural, hunger pouring over every syllable, “You want me. I want you.”

“You’re doing something to me, to make me feel this way!” Her hands fisted on his wide chest, pushing until he drew back marginally. She fought to slow her erratic breathing, pushing down that extraordinary climax from her traitorous body. “I won’t be manipulated!”

“How foolish you are!” She felt him tense, abs rippling, as he shook his dark head no. Anger spread through the small cabin as quickly as lethal venom. “I drank from you repeatedly. You drank from me. We now share a blood tie only those of your Donor descent can share with a Monarch, such as me! Manipulate you?” He laughed sadly, a hollowing ache. “Your needs and feelings are your own.”

Adrenalin pushed through her veins, she had to get to Sixten. “Don’t touch me!”

He leaned back down, cupping the side of her face tenderly, doing just the opposite. “But you want me to,” he breathed on an anguished murmur. “I know you do.
I know it
.”

“No. My blood will not be used against me.” She pushed away the memories, the understanding that he wanted to claim her beyond ‘property’. She fought the wave of pity she experienced while seeing his longing reflected in his incredible eyes, boring down into hers with a possessive need.

Blythe tossed away all flailing emotions but anger.

Somewhere, in the back of her awakening mind, was an animal whose long claws wanted blood. So she clawed him, dug her nails into his face shamelessly, screaming as though she were deranged.

Gianni easily gripped her wrists with one hand, pressing them above her head. Lust carved his face, his eyes glittering. He glanced at her fingers, his lips curving at the sight of his flesh and blood painting her nails. “Marking me as your own, pet?”

“Not at all,” Blythe snapped, narrowing her cognac eyes.

“Ah,” his words filled with stark desire, golden skin flushing with excitement, “you only had to tell me that you desired a lover’s spanking.” One possessive hand reached under the sheet and cupped the globe of her ass, his smallest fingertip trailing her forbidden crevice with great familiarity. “For you, I grant such wishes.” Through his fast-healing immortality, his face cleared, though telltale rivulets of blood dried on the sharp blades of his cheeks. A reminder she could never mar his beauty, even if she tried. “Will we play now or later? Might I warn you, later will keep me simmering? Now rewards us.”

“I’m not playing.” Razor-sharp sex rolled off him, its heat a lethal whip cracking with absolute precision.

“A pleasure-punishment you enjoy, since a dominant male arouses you. I know this to be true. Therefore, it is wholly natural to succumb to my greater strength, is it not? I embody what is essential for your lasting happiness, your obvious pleasure, and your life, yet you choose to fight every single one of your needs.” He gripped her ass again, kneading her flesh with an expert hand. “Really, I find this altered behavior of yours astonishing.”

“Oh, Gianni, no one can be more
astonished
than I am.”

Gianni released her wrists, pointing his index finger at her anxious face in silent warning. She nodded her acquaintance, clasping her hands across her jittery stomach, forcing her fingers to behave so she would not go savage again. In turn, Gianni’s hand pulled away from her body, leaving an empty heat in his wake she did
not
want to identify.

“It is easy to forget you are mostly human,” he said, bending his head to her throat, sniffing and then groaning low. “Sleep will better your mood. Then we will play.”

Blythe closed her eyes, saying nothing. Then she felt Gianni’s mind touch hers, enticing her to sleep. Blue summer days filled her drowsy head, where puffy white clouds pillowed her fear. If Blythe could have fought his mental intrusion, she would not dare, not when she needed to escape him in any way possible, even if it were for a few hours. The last thing she remembered before she drifted off was that Gianni had
not
lied. She could sense the difference between them, her desiring his touch. Indisputably, a blood tie worked her body, tethered it to his. So how was she really supposed to fight him when she craved his touch?

Cold iron manacles slid around her wrists. Startled, her eyes popped open when she asked, “Anchoring me to the bed?”

No response from him, but his intimate laugh spoke of a familiar lover.

She fought the urge to wrestle manacles she couldn’t begin to break and drew in a long calming breath. With fluttering eyes growing heavier by the second, she gave in to the overwhelming urge to sleep. As she drifted off, a reminder of what she once was to Gianni feathered her thoughts.

“So,” she whispered sleepily, “it begins again.”

Warm lips against her temple before precarious fangs inched down, combing through her long hair with dangerous intimacy. “No,” he prophesied wickedly, “this is where it ends.”

Where are you, Blythe?

Sixten Kovac was one desperate vampire. If he had a choice between depending on highly trained Navy Seals weighed down with the ultimate in sophisticated load-out gear or these barely dressed creatures depending on claws, the moon, and brute strength as weapons, he’d pick his natural-born enemy any day.

He caught a whiff of what he was wearing. His brother’s blood saturated his clothes. Hindsight, he should have never waited this long to kill him, especially since he was one of the few who could take down a pure blood Habaline. From the beginning, Sixten should have taken every possible precaution to make sure no one stayed in Rave’s crosshairs, mainly his Blythe. And although he sensed something was wrong, incredibly wrong, when Rave had first visited him in his Fort Myers office. He had other things to worry about.

“I smell your distress,” Oudir spoke up over the droning rotors as neither needed headsets. Their supernatural hearing picked up almost anything. “It’s unpalatable.”

In the nature of vampires, Sixten hissed his irritation. “So you’re saying I’m giving the big, bad warrior a tummy ache?” Qudir was unmated, had never found his Bride. He only had an inkling of what Sixten was going through.

Qudir thought he was reassuring when he said, “Over the centuries, I’ve, uh, encountered many beautiful women. Blythe trumps them all.” He nodded, keeping his eyes on the water. “Besides her appearance, she’s a Donor. Why would the mixed-bloods kill her? She’s certainly worth keeping around. At least, that’s what I’d do if I were in their shoes.”

Sixten rocked a string of blistering profanities that he shouldn’t have uttered this close to the heavens. “Thank you so fucking much, Qudir,” he spouted when he calmed down. “The weight of the world just slid right off my shoulders. Maybe instead of leading the Vampyr Vojaks, you should look into grief counseling as your new career choice. ”

“I’m just saying she’s more valuable alive than dead.” He added smoothly, “Gives us a chance.”

Sixten never appreciated the word chance. Chance meant he had the potential to fail. Creatures as powerful as he was never failed.
Oh, but you didn’t protect your mate
,
did you?
“You’re forgetting she’s a
claimed
Donor.” His fangs pulsated. “In need of her Dynasty Vampyr or she’ll
die
. Those blood transfusions Dru administered aren’t going to hold up if gluttonous idiots drain her while feeding.” A roll of revulsion swept over him at the thought of another creature savoring what was his. “Shit. She’s delicious. The first time I tasted Blythe’s blood,
I
nearly killed her. What does that say for someone who isn’t bonded to her, doesn’t love Blythe as I do?”

He didn’t answer Sixten. Instead, Qudir whipped blacked-out goggles at his head. Sixten caught them, slamming them on his nose. No explanation was necessary. His Habaline irises were kicking up, glittering like the scorching desert sun, an illuminating distraction no one needed, especially the pilot.

“Marco Island, Commander?”

Sixten tensed, looking to the left at Fort Myers, his body refusing to accept the inevitable. The time had come for him to rely on others while he faced the Habaline Council as their joint ambassador. The only reason he wasn’t telling them all to fuck off was because he now needed their help.
For her.

Qudir glanced over and then directed the pilot, “Roger that. Head to Marco, pick up two more Vojaks and circle Fort Myers, Sanibel and Captiva Islands while we are in our
meeting
. This baby only stops to fuel up, got it?”

“You got it, Commander.”

“Oh, and watch out for birds.”

“With all due respect, Commander, I always watch out for birds.”

“Yeah, well, these would be the extinct kind, ones as large as this chopper. Similar to flying lizards, but I’m not going to say the D word.”

“Oh, hell.”

“I said worse when I encountered one a few hours ago,” Qudir rubbed the tension from the back of his neck. “Can’t miss ‘em. But when they’re right on your ass, it’s too late. So shoot first, got it?”

Minutes felt like hours as they finally curved a wide expanse of sand centered by a private landing pad. “You have some flame-throwers with you?” Sixten asked while staring ahead at the sparkling lights stretching for miles.

Families vacationed here in droves. Winter season brought more visitors into this area than summer months did. And right now, dangerous predators were roaming the streets. Sixten knew their blood since he was a dangerous mixture himself - a half-breed. However, his mother descended from prominent bloodlines traced back to the first Species vampire family. She raised him in a nurturing, civilized home with her Undead husband and taught Sixten how to control his two sides as a collective whole. Rave, on the other hand, raised his breeding experiments as dispensable weapons. Nurturing would have been the last thing on his mind. Other than those who were pure bloods, Rave had no regards for any lives. His imprisoned mixed-bloods led a harrowing existence devoid of any real contact. As if they were main attractions in a psychotic zoo, looking out from the lonely inside while living in cells where they awaited feeding.

Instead of hunting their prey.

Until tonight.

Undoubtedly, their first targets would be women. Those now freed would prefer immortal, mixed-blood females of any species to all humans, so they wouldn’t break easily. Sixten visibly shuddered. This meeting between the factions involved more than Blythe, though she was the only one that he truly cared about; he still couldn’t forget the women who were at the mercy of savages.

Hungry savages.

“Yeah, your thrower’s behind your seat.” Qudir dug his phone from his pocket. “Crispy critters guaranteed. It’s primed and pumped with immortal fire so make sure you don’t have any styling gel in your hair, Goldie Locks. That shit ignites.” He stared down and then sent a blindingly fast text, his face intense as they circled. “Damn it.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

“That’s annoying,” Sixten snapped. “So ominous and melodramatic, Commander, hasn’t the night been dramatic enough?” He nodded to the coastline while they landed. “If you’re saying the boogieman’s out there waiting for us, then guess again. I
am
the fucking boogieman.”

“Yeah, if I make it to my bed within the next few days, I’ll be sure to check under it first.” Qudir agreed. “You’re in rare form, Sixten. And it’s understandable. Even so, there’s another creature here that has recently gone through having his mate abducted. Twice.” He pointed a long finger at the window towards Jayce Jordan, the Alpha of the North American Pack. Sixten watched him disappear inside a hidden tunnel in a flash of golden light. “The last time his female vanished was courtesy of Maestru.”

“And at the time, you knew nothing about it,
Commander
.” Laughable since Qudir was responsible for leading the Vojaks and the soldiers who ranked beneath them. He upheld vampire law and Maestru clearly broke it. Repeatedly.

Qudir nodded. “I looked the other way.”

A disturbing decision, overlooking Maestru’s senseless infractions put the lives of all Species civilians at risk, especially those infractions encouraging wars with werewolves. “I’d forgotten that story.” Sixten shrugged as if he did not care, because, at the moment, he didn’t. “But, lately, I’ve been preoccupied.”

“Obviously, if you’ve forgotten Gage MacGelton misted inside our Coven leader’s home and defanged him when he rescued the Alpha’s queen.”

Clearly, Maestru deserved it. “Fangs are easier to regenerate than balls, I always say.” The precise reason why Sixten castrated those he killed, an ingenious distraction enabling him to decapitate his immortal opponents quite easily. He fought dirty, or he didn’t fight at all. Playing with others’ fangs was a critical time waster. One Sixten didn’t commit, or he would have been eating dirt centuries ago. “What Gage MacGelton delivered was a warning, an embarrassing one for Maestru and the Coven, but nothing more.”

“Yeah, well, Maestru and the Alpha weren’t cozy before, so I’m not expecting this meeting to go very well.”

“Taking the Alpha’s queen,” Sixteen muttered while tossing his goggles on the floor. “That’s so small-town high school, like being the first to nail the preacher’s daughter. You know you’re going to get caught, and there’ll be hell to pay at the barrel end of a sawed off.” They stepped out, lowering the heads as air and sand whipped their faces. Ocher and Kash slipped by them, leather dusters laden with blades billowing behind as they settled inside the chopper. Nothing passed between them and Sixten. No words. No wordless glances. No forlorn expressions ladled with pity. The Vampyr Vojaks understood Sixten wanted Blythe back, and since they were Warriors in arms, she would come first during their search. “If it weren’t for this mess my brother made,” Sixten added despondently, “we’d be smack in the middle of an entirely different war with the werewolves. What was Maestru thinking using her capture to negotiate with those Beasts?”