Dark Passion Rising (8 page)

 “If your world is anything like what I saw in the alley before
becoming the main course for one of your kind, then thanks, but I’ll pass,”
Tambra told him dryly.

 “I have heard the details of that horrendous night, and you have
my heartfelt apologies for what you went through.  The man who bit you was a Pure
Blood, because of that, there is protocol to be met.”

 “Oh, well then I guess I should order my servants to bring us
some tea.”

She was getting so tired of everyone telling her what she would
do.  She was used to making her own decisions and she would be damned if anyone
would dictate anything to her.   

 He must have read her expression, since his next words were
offered with a true ring of sincerity in his deep voice.

“I can appreciate you being a bit on edge.  Your whole world has
been turned upside down.”

 She interrupted him with a humorless laugh.

“A bit on edge?  Here’s a news flash for you, Mr. Fox- I’m pissed
off, and neither you nor Marcus is going to waltz into my life and suddenly rearrange
it.  Do you understand me?”

 Temple moved closer, his face illuminated by the moonlight.  He
was extremely handsome.  She wondered if good looks were a prerequisite for
being a Breed.  His dark hair was cut short and waved away from a wide forehead. 
Dark brows shadowed his gold eyes and his full mouth quirked up at one corner, giving
him a boyish charm.

“You’re a woman with a great deal of strength, I like that.  Tell
me, Tambra, do you feel it?”

 He was so close she could smell the woodsy aftershave he wore.  He
raised a hand and stroked his finger over her cheek before she had time to jerk
away from his touch.  She narrowed her eyes up at him.  His good looks and
polished air left her flat.  She felt no hint of attraction toward him, only
irritation. 

“I am tired and would like to be left alone,” she said stiffly,
taking a step backwards, feeling penned in by his closeness. 

 Temple drew a deep breath, his nostrils flaring slightly, and a look
of satisfaction crossed his face. 

“You are close to Rising, Tambra, but I can give you just a
little more time before you take your rightful place amongst our people.”

 “Gee, how big of you.”

Temple ignored her barb.  “I do try to be compassionate when I
have the luxury to do so.”

 “What if I don’t want to be one of ‘your’ people?  Do you think you
can force me?” she challenged.

“Ah, Tambra, you’re so refreshingly naïve to the ways of the
Breed world.  Once you have gone through the Rising, you will discover this
life you hold onto so tightly will lose its appeal.  Then you will long for the
company of others such as yourself.”

 “Of all the arrogant… you really are delusional if you think
that,” Tambra scoffed.  “Do you actually believe I would want you?” she
demanded hotly.

 Temple’s white, even smile was menacing.  His eyes hardened as
he moved up against her, forcing her to look up at him.  He ran his hands down
her arms as he bent toward her, his hot breath tickling her ear.

“I promise you, Tambra, after your Rising, you will gladly give
me whatever I desire.  Soon you will see that there is no place for you in this
world but by my side.”

 Fear skittered up her spine, leaving her shivering as he
released her suddenly.  She could do nothing but stare as he turned away,
moving back into the shadows.  Not even the sound of his footsteps could be
heard in the utter stillness of the night.

 ****

The night was still.  No breeze stirred to offer any respite from
the oppressive heat of the day.  Long black shadows reached, like greedy arms,
toward the few streetlights lining the small street.  A few homes were
dispersed among empty lots, chained and padlocked against trespassers. 

Marcus moved silently down the street, wearing a jacket despite
the heat to cover the daggers strapped across his chest.  Sweat trickled down
his spine.  Moving past the last home on the street, he turned toward what
looked like a local bar at the corner.  A red and blue neon sign declared it to
be The Asp.  A fanged serpent flowed between the letters.  Marcus opened the
door and was immersed in a wall of cold air, spiced with the sweet metallic
tang of blood, sex, and sweat.

 From the entrance, he scanned the crowded bar that curved around
the smoke filled dance floor where couples gyrated to Buck Cherry’s
Sexy
Bitch
.  Dark, red leather booths lined the walls, filled with vampires and
wannabes.  

Marcus hadn’t been in here in a long time, but some things never
changed.  There would always be humans who would willingly donate their blood
to vampires, never really knowing whether they were amongst the real deal.  

  He turned his attention to the black draped doorway by the bar,
noting the massive body guard in front of the entrance.  He knew what went on
behind those black drapes.  The rooms offered privacy for vampires to drink,
fuck, or, more than likely, both.  They were small and lavishly furnished, catering
to a variety of tastes for the vampire who could afford it.  He moved in that
direction, the guard locked on him.

 “Marcus, where the hell have you been?  Long time no see, my
friend.”  A husky, very feminine voice filtered over to him from the bar.

 Turning toward the voice, he found a small, petite woman behind
the bar mixing drinks.  Her dusky skin shone with the rosy hue of a recent
feeding.  Her dark curly hair, tamed by rows of braids, framed her heart shaped
face.

“Mari, it has been a long time.  Business seems to be going well
for you.”  He smiled with genuine affection.

 Mari gave him an impish grin, showing the tips of her white,
sharp fangs.

“Never better.  This keeps up I may have to find a bigger place.”

 “I’m glad to hear it.”

 “So, Marcus, what brings you to my doorstep?  Christophe is a
regular here, but you?  You don’t write, you don’t call.  Frankly I thought you
had forgotten all about old Mari here.” She pouted prettily.

  “Old?  Didn’t you hear that six hundred is the new thirty?  And
how could anyone forget you?” he laughed, hugging her fondly when she stepped
out from behind the bar.

“Such flattery!  I think Christophe has taken his lessons from
you. 
Now tell Mari, what I can offer you, hmm?”

“I require one of your ladies for an hour.”

 Mari looked surprised.  “Perhaps I have it wrong and you are
taking up Christophe’s bad habits.”

 Marcus chuckled.  “I’m afraid I can’t hold a candle to his
voracious appetites.”

 “Too true.  Any preference on ladies?

 Marcus caught himself before asking for a blue eyed blonde.  “None.”

 Mari nodded to the hulking vampire at the drapes.

“I will see if Tasha is available.  Just make yourself
comfortable.”

 Marcus moved through the hall, where the smell of blood and sex
hung thick, clinging to the back of his throat and in his nostrils.  The sound of
flesh slapping against flesh, the moans of pleasure and the grunts of
completion filled his ears.  Finding an unoccupied room in the rear, he made
himself as comfortable as possible on the satin pillows that littered the room.
 Incense smoke drifted softly through the room.  He looked up at the mirrored
ceiling, trying to push away the image of Tambra lying upon the silk pillows,
hair spread out, her body bare and waiting for his pleasure.  His cock twitched
at the image.  He closed his eyes against the vision his mind tormented him
with.  He just needed blood and sex, then he would be able to kill this
attraction he had toward the Pre-Rising woman.

 He heard the soft rustling of cloth and opened his eyes to the
red haired beauty standing before him.  She was dressed in a skimpy sundress
that showed off her ample breasts and shapely legs.  Her hair was long and
straight, flowing down to her waist.  

 “I’m Tasha, you were expecting me?” Her Russian accent was thick
and husky.

 “Come to me.”  He held out his hand.  “Ease my hunger.”

 She eagerly gripped his hand and sank down next to him, tilting
her head to the side to expose her throat while her hand wandered down his
chest to his cock.  Her body pressed invitingly against him, yet he remained
cold.  With his free hand he grabbed her wrist.  The delicate network of blue
veins tantalized his senses, sharpening his thirst.

  “Blood first,” he demanded, his voice harsh.

 She hesitantly nodded, removing her hand from him and again
exposing her neck.  Pulling her wrist toward him, he struck quickly, his long
canines punching into her vein.  She moaned in pleasure, squirming closer to
his broad chest.  Her blood filled his mouth, spilling down his throat and
sending power through his blood stream.  Taking deep pulls, he sated his hunger
then lapped at her wounds to seal the deep punctures on her wrist before
releasing her.  He resisted the urge to fling her away from him.  He rose, unable
to stand the feel of her against him for another second, and sent her tumbling
back against the pillows.  Confusion clouded her pretty face as she looked up
at him.

 “Thank you for your generosity.  That is all I require,” Marcus
mumbled, placing a few folded bills on the dresser before turning and heading
out of the room.  He didn’t stop until he was once again outside in the
oppressive heat, the night shadows wrapping tightly around him, soothing his
panic.  Never in his long years of life had he been repelled by the nearness of
a beautiful woman.  That could only mean…
no. 
He would not even think
it.  Fate could not be so cruel as to give him a Consort he could never have.  Tambra
belonged to another and that was the end of it.

 A movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention in
time to see a figure duck between a house and vacant lot.  Curiosity made him
move forward until he stood looking down the long walkway between the house and
the lot.  At the end of the walkway, six figures moved out of the shadows to
face him.  He saw two vampires among the Weres as they circled around him.

 Ferals, he thought with disgust.  Crouching low, he prepared for
battle, knowing he was outnumbered, which was how he liked it.  His lips
twisted into a cold smile as he nodded at one particularly large Were.

“Time to dance with the Devil,” Marcus said softly as he pulled
one of his daggers free of its sheath.

There was no more time for talk as the Weres attacked with a
flash of teeth and claws.

Chapter Eight

 Tambra looked at her bedside clock, rubbing eyes that felt like
sandpaper.  After her encounter with Temple she had showered, pulled on sweats
and a tee shirt, and had just decided to get some sleep when her cell phone
rang.  Thinking it was Cody, she growled into the receiver and was caught by
surprise when Miguel’s voice came through the other end.

 “Did I catch you at a bad time, querida?”

“Miguel, no…yes, oh, damn.  It’s just been a bad day all around.”

 “I am concerned about you, Tambra.  Not as your boss, but as a
friend.  I have known you all your life.  I think of you as a daughter.  If you
wish we can talk.  It won’t take me long to get over there and we can have a
nice, long visit.”

Tambra groaned inwardly, the last thing she needed was to face
Miguel’s concern.

“Can I have a rain check?  I was just crawling into bed.”

 “Of course, that may be for the best.  Get some sleep and then
perhaps tomorrow we can have that chat.”

“Yes, No, I mean how about I call you in a few days?”  She was
so
not ready to deal with Miguel, not until she could sort through everything
that had happened.

 “Of course, remember I am here when you are ready to talk.”  His
disappointment filtered through the line.

“I’ll call you back, promise, and then we’ll grab dinner and
talk.”  She hated the feeling of guilt that lay like a boulder in her chest. 
She was just so tired.  Looking at her pillow with longing, she told Miguel
goodnight, and turned her ringer off.  With a sigh, she sunk into the softness
of her pillow.  Later, she would handle Miguel but not now.  Within moments
sleep once again claimed her. 

****

She was wide awake now.  What had woken her?  She heard the sound
of something heavy hitting her door and jumped from the bed, grabbing a knife from
the kitchen on her way to her door.

 “Move away from the door!  I am a police officer and will not
hesitate to use my gun if you don’t comply now,” she bluffed.  A muffled groan
came through the door.

 “It’s me, Marcus.  Let me in.” 

 She ignored the sudden acceleration of her pulse and opened her
door, coming face to face with the vampire.  She couldn’t help the surprise
from showing on her face as she took in his torn chest and the deep gashes in
his upper thigh.  Judging by the amount of blood pooling at his feet, he was
bleeding out quickly.  Tambra wasn’t sure if blood loss could kill a vampire,
but it sure as hell looked like a possibility.  She stumbled under his weight
as she wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders, pulled him into her living
room, and eased him onto the sofa.  She locked the door, dropped her knife on
the kitchen table, then ran and got towels to stem the blood flow.  He hissed
in pain, lines of tension bracketing his mouth as she used the towels to apply
pressure to the wounds on his chest and thigh.  His dark eyes tracked her
movements as she made strips from one towel and tied it tightly around his
thigh.

 “Sorry about your sofa, I’m afraid it’s ruined,” he slurred as
he struggled to remain conscious.

 “You can buy me a new one.  I thought you guys were
indestructible, what happened?”

A small smile played over his lips.  Tambra fought the sudden
desire to feel those lips on her own.  What was it about him that made her
react like this?