Tears of Blood (The Blood Chronicles) (19 page)

She groaned, his grasp on the arched curve of her lower spine drawing her hips upward. Amado’s lips caressed her jaw before moving to the shell of her ear, the tip of his heated tongue laving the flesh. His thick hair brushed her flaming cheek and Meghan buried her face into the inky darkness. Savoring the heady scent that rose to her inflamed senses, a spasm of unapologetic longing suffused her.

Her body pulsating with need, Meghan’s eyes floated shut and she savored the sensation of Amado’s hand against her damp flesh. She pulled him closer, unerring unfastening the buttons of his shirt. Her trembling fingers tugged at the thinness of his tie, releasing the knot and tugging at the material. She laughed as he lifted to his elbow, yanking the fabric from his torso with one forceful jerk.

Her yearning raged and her passion flamed, held too long in check by her warring mind. Meghan pulled at him, wordlessly telling him of a desire equal to his own. She moaned deep in her throat, pressing her lips to the cool curve of his cheek, savoring the quaking shafts of emotion that rippled over his autumn chilled flesh.

Lovingly, his fingers trembling, he parted the silken splendor of her thighs with his knee. He leaned over her, his hands bracing his weight. His arms quivered with the effort and stared into her face, noting the flush of excitement burnishing her cheeks.

“You’re my treasure and my love.” Amado whispered ardently. “
Come sei bella
, Meghan.”

She could barely speak his name, his soft words filling her ears and seeming to glide over her shuddering flesh. Instead, she traced her fingers over his warm lips, soundlessly pleading him for more.

“
Bella
Meghan, if you can only understand how I have waited an eternity for you.”

Smiling tenderly, she ran sensitive fingertips over his face, memorizing each nuance of his features in the windows of her subconscious. Her unsteady touch lingered on his jaw and moved across deliciously smooth skin before threading through his hair. Gasping, her hips moving in unspoken need, her body aching with need, she pulled him close.

The gradual heat of his velvety hardness pressed against the juncture of her thighs, throbbing and fiery. His lips seized hers as the insistent intrusion of his body delved into her moistness.

Meghan returned the softness of his kiss with a soul searing eagerness, pulling at his shoulders while she arched hungrily against him. Her mouth trailed over the side of his neck, his scent filling her senses as her tongue laved his skin. She listened to his strained chuckle as she sank her teeth into the bit of flesh beneath his ear, the sound a muted breath in the vastness of the chamber.

Clutching at his shoulders, she pulled him closer, her nails raking the taunt flesh of his back. Groaning, she wrapped the long length of her slender legs around him, drawing him more deeply inside her, savoring the feel of his turgid manhood. Gasping, her hips rose as the pulsating and insistent heat of his maleness plunge unerringly into the quivering depths of her womb.

Meghan arched beneath him, inundated by the unrelenting pleasure that his lithe body induced, her trembling hands grasping, plucking, and pulling at his quivering body. Amado bent closer, steadying himself on a single arm as he clutched her hips to his wildly pulsating length, driving deeper and deeper into her shuddering flesh. She gasped at the erotic onslaught, murmuring his name aloud in a voice that burned with passion, as a nameless pressure continued to build.

Intensity grew within her, the maddening thud of her erratically thumping heart roaring loudly in her ears. Urgently, Meghan gripped him, pulling him to her, her back arching as she enveloped him in her arms. With each impassioned thrust, she strained to pull him ever closer, longing for what she did not comprehend.

A tiny cry of pleasure erupted from her as the gratifying vibrations filling her coiled upwards, and crested in an explosive wave.

Chapter Thirteen

Sebastien shook his head peevishly, his mystifying eyes reflecting his disillusionment as he distanced himself from the crowd in the ballroom. His expression reflected bewilderment and disgust, sensations he hadn’t ever experienced toward his mortal counterparts. In fact, except for an incident in the Middle Ages, he viewed humanity as nothing more than misguided children who were self-absorbed and didn’t know better.

His life for the last few centuries had been simple, defined by the rules dictated by the elders. The dictates were straightforward enough. Settle, merge, hunt, judge, and exterminate, if necessary. Successfully, he’d settled and blended into the quiet society of Bentham in order to accomplish his goals, but the subsequent chores were proving more difficult every day.

Society had changed, and not for the better.

In Sebastien’s time, the undead didn’t long for the embrace of the living. In fact, they relished taking whatever mortals had to offer, whether voluntarily or not. Presently, the events he witnessed hours earlier confused him, and he damn well couldn’t figure out what the world was coming to. Confused, he watched a vampire, one of the unholy, hold Meghan Stanley in his arms. Instead of robbing her of precious life, he’d pressed his lips gently to hers, appearing not to want anything more than her heart.

The abomination of the damned had attentively led her from the stage. In his centuries on this earth, Sebastien hadn’t ever seen such devotion and the hunter suspected the prospect of a soul lingered beneath the vampire’s mottled stare. Redemption was evident in the fiend’s tarnished gold eyes, and he’d grant this one an opportunity to redeem himself.

He turned away, ignoring the many hands that reached for him. The store patrons, countless of which attended, recognized him. Even on this night, where the alcohol flowed freely and inhibitions vanished on the words of a love song, he appeared a familiar and welcoming beacon.

If they only knew…

His skin burned and Sebastien stilled the urge to run his hands restlessly over his arms. He acknowledged, despite his efforts to soothe the fiery ache, the flesh beneath the dark fabric of his shirt flamed with a hidden fire. The discomfort was an unsavory part of his curse, and the pain would never leave him.

Wearily, his eyes scanned the room for the bright crimson of Chesca’s curly hair. Issuing a heavy sigh of relief, he spotted her and couldn’t prevent the half-hearted smile twisting his lips.

Trust Chesca, he thought, his smile widening into a grin. He wondered if she’d ever change her outrageous behavior, but decided against the probability. Only the gypsy waif would openly flirt with a rotund man dressed in the regal finery of a forgotten action hero, and make the human feel as if he was the king of the world.

At least, he though bemusedly, the person portraying the superhero was not one of the undead. There weren’t many in attendance tonight, save for the one that who kissed Meghan, but suspected the night was still young.

Briefly, he wondered about the fortuneteller’s safety.

Sebastien didn’t have long to digest the thought as his gaze settled on a lone individual dressed in a pristine white linen suit hovering among Chesca’s ardent admirers. Belatedly, he realized he should have squelched the thought from the onset, understanding the undead haunted the festivities of the living with an eagerness knowing no bounds.

How could they
, he reasoned,
avoid a virtual buffet of drunken buffoons after the revelry?

Sebastien identified the parasite for what he was, despite his outward facade. Now, he understood the reason behind the burning sensations trailing over his flesh, the insatiable need to wreak havoc on the condemned. The very demon’s appearance triggered his need for the hunt.

The vampire’s blond hair, a similar shade of his own, shone in the dim lights. His features were classical, nearly unearthly in the muted glow, and sharply defined by a stubborn jaw and chin. His eyes, black against his pallid skin, glowed with a craving of which Sebastien was well acquainted.

His threatening gaze narrowed as he glared at the figure he recognized from the café near his store. The highlighted hair, the foreboding eyes, the overly smooth demeanor announced the true fiend hidden behind the suave character. He knew the voracious vampire as easily as the scars that marred his arms.

His shoulders drawn back and his chin held high, Sebastien pushed his way through the crowd. He ignored the muttered complaints issued as people stumbled aside, focused on the vampire lingering close enough to Chesca’s table to cause damage to her precious soul. He wanted to shout, to demand the wrongdoer to vanish to the netherworld without his aid, but couldn’t.

There were too many witnesses, and he couldn’t afford to have his actual identity discovered.

As if capable of sensing Sebastien, a slow and congenial grin brightened the unusual pallor of the individual. Derisively, he turned toward the towering figure, his eyes glittering with an unholy light. He didn’t show fear as Sebastien approached, despite the murderous intent in his face.

“You’ll not have her.” The low assertion echoed with the fury raging in Sebastien’s soul.

“Do you truly believe the rubbish you spout?” The vampire smirked, the action seeming to define only more of his glorious visage. Unhurriedly, he drew away from the crowd, backing into a towering pillar. “Do you believe you’ve the power to stop me?”

Sebastien pulled himself upright, towering over the being, and glared down the length of his nose. “You, of all the damned, know what I’m capable of destroying you. Your destruction will be as effortless as my swatting a fly.”

Declan smirked, his eyes glittering in the shadows.

“Do you truly believe yourself proficient?”

“I can do so much more than merely inflicting harm on you.” Sebastien assured heatedly. “Are you so blind you don’t know of my species?”

“Just as mortals have tales of demons, vampires, and mythical creatures, legends of your sort run rampant through ours.” He responded with a halfhearted shrug.

“You relegate me to a land of nightmares, stories meant to keep vampires on a tight leash by their makers?”

“You’re nothing but mortal…”

“Trust me,” Sebastien leaned in close, his hot breath bathing the vampire’s cold features. Fear didn’t glisten in his dark gaze as he spied the fangs that declared Declan’s identity, and a sinister disregard radiated from every pore of his body. “I’m not merely a tale meant for amusement among the undead. I’m the only one of a sea of the everlasting that knows of the evil lurking in your corpse.”

“I know of the demon inside you, the one that poisons whatever is left of your condemned soul and makes you the fiend of the night.”

“If you’re so certain, then you know there isn’t a single soul protected from me tonight.” Declan scoffed as his arm spread wide, wordlessly encompassing every individual in attendance. “Watch these fools drink themselves into oblivion, and stagger out to our harmless streets. I’ll be waiting to welcome them, to show every fool of the darkness inside me.”

“Tonight, they’ll drink, before safely returning to their homes.” Sebastien contradicted. “You, and others of your sort, will leave them in peace, Balthazar.”

The vampire’s brow lifted slightly at the menacing pronunciation of his name.

“And what mode of magic did you use to divine my name?”

“I didn’t use any enchantment at all.” Sebastien countered innocently, a slow and lethal smile twisting his mouth. “I listen, and hear of the whispers in the streets.”

“Then listen to this,” Declan leaned in close, the sinister coldness of his face nearly touching that of the other. “Your spells and charms won’t stop me. Mortals cannot run, nor can they hide from my hunger.”

“I
will
stop you.” Deadly promised laced the declaration.

“You can’t be everywhere, while I seek my victims.” Declan’s smiled tightly, and his eyes glittered sinisterly. “What do you intend to do? Do you plan to stand on the stage, demand the spotlight, and tell them to run? Shall you encourage them to hide from my thirst, my need to steal their blood?”

He turned toward Sebastien, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the man’s flashing orbs.

“If I must, I will do so.”

“These disgusting beings,” his chin indicated the crowd of smartly dressed individuals, laughing uproariously and mingling with one another. “These people would laugh you out of the place, and openly embrace me.”

Sebastien leaned in closer, his nose intentionally touching Declan’s cheek, his breath hot against the vampire’s cold flesh.

“Do you know who I am?” A murderous edge filled the question, which would have caused most to seek some manner of escape. “Do you know why I’m here?”

Declan smirked, his lips twisting ruthlessly and he moved his face away. The action removed any semblance of attractiveness from him, his visage appearing as cruel, and as distorted as the demon he was beneath the surface.

“I have heard rumors of your class among The Sanctum.” He admitted shortly. “They warn us, in our early days, to keep away from you and your kind.”

“Have they ever told you why?” Sebastien breathed throatily, his dark eyes glittering with an unnatural light. “Have your precious creators ever enlightened their damned brood as to why it’s best they avoid my breed?”