Keeping Cambria

Keeping Cambria - Ménage

Hell’s Hunters

Book 1

Hated by some.

Feared by most.

Hunted by fools.

Copyright © February 2013 by Kitty DuCane

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eISBN 978-0-9884870-1-7

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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning

This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language, which may be considered offensive to some readers.

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Keeping Cambria - Ménage

Hell’s Hunters - Book 1

Cambria Johnson’s on a mission—to kill every vampire she can find. But when a vampire rescues her from another vamp, she decides to make an exception. Then he shows up again at one of her kills…and he has a twin. When the two most devastatingly sexy men she’s ever seen start spouting some nonsense about a mate, she knows she can’t run far enough—or fast enough.

Viper and Venom are vampire/werewolf hybrids and members of Hell’s Hunters, whose sole mission is to eliminate threats to society from feral vampires and werewolves. And their credo about women is clear: they aren’t meant to fight, and should never use themselves as bait. Especially ones as sensual as Cambria. Keeping their hands off her is out of the question. Keeping her safe is even harder.

Author’s Note:
This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: anal play/intercourse, light bondage, spanking, oral intercourse, and male/female/male intercourse.

Chapter One

Viper McIntyre craved a smoke. Good thing he didn’t have one, since a glowing butt was a dead giveaway. Yeah, these fuckers could smell him and his men, but they were purposely upwind, so there was no chance of that happening. He was also cloaking his team until it was the right moment to kick some ugly rogue vampire ass.

He and his five brothers were wolf/vampire hybrids. With the cunning of the wolf, they could walk in the sunlight and kick ass. Their vampires enabled them to mind control, trace, and do all kinds of other neat shit.

He was the brother elected to be on point tonight, leading their human team of vampire ass-kickers.

A whisper in Viper’s mind signaled the approach of a vehicle, but he already knew that. His vamp skills allowed him to scan out several miles for anything that was breathing. Of course, his team didn’t have those skills, so he held a mind link to each. A dark van carrying his prey stopped at the entrance to the underground bunker. It would be easy for him to trace inside the van, kill the offending motherfucker, and then trace out.

But there were several blood slaves in the dark caverns that his team needed to evacuate. Once all the hostages were safe, Viper would evaluate each victim, eliminate those that were feral and beyond hope, and wipe the minds of the salvageable ones before his team dropped them off at the nearest ER. But first his wolf would lick most of their wounds into healing to avoid widespread panic about monsters snacking on humans.

The van door slid open, and vampire soldiers filed out to stand guard. The rogue vampire, who called himself Michael The King, could probably trace too, but intel had indicated that he used a van to transport his hand-picked blood slaves—all female.

Michael stepped from the vehicle, and Viper watched the vamp cock his head to the side. No fucking way could this bastard pick up their presence. The King turned and held his hand out. A willowy woman stepped from the van and stumbled.

That one’s soused,
Gabe, Viper’s right-hand man, whispered in his mind.

They always are,
he answered back.

The lady righted herself, her deep laugh echoing in the surrounding forest. The King wrapped his arm around to support her as they made their way to the entrance. The woman was tall, at least six feet, and Viper knew her legs had to be long by the way her lengthy black coat swirled around her.

When his prey disappeared into a tunnel, Viper shifted into a mist and followed. After he killed the sentries at the door, he opened it for his men. Gabe had given him shit about the plan, but this way no one would get hurt. Viper and his brothers were the closest thing to invincible. Gabe and the rest of the team were not, which was why his plan was sound.

As Viper traveled the tunnel, he scrambled the brains of the guards stationed along the way. His team would follow behind him, beheading the vamps to eliminate them permanently.

The tunnel ended at a massive metal door. The King waved his hand, and the entry creaked open. The blood slave giggled and murmured something about that being a neat trick. Viper rolled his eyes at the stupidity of human females. Hell, The King wasn’t even good-looking by vampire standards, but his glamour ensured an endless supply of blood and sex.

Behind the door was another hallway lined with more doors. The guards peeled off into rooms which no doubt held a hostage waiting for each of them. Viper scrambled the brains of the bad motherfuckers and tried to soothe the cognizant victims—a kindness, even though he already knew he wouldn’t be able to let some of the women live.

The King’s room was the last one, and it was massive, with an enormous bed dominating the center. His wolf’s nose told him the place reeked of the coppery scent of blood infused with death. Someone had died in here recently—violently.

Viper was getting ready to reveal himself—let The King know who was dealing the death card tonight—when the woman shucked her coat and laid it on the end of the nasty-ass bed. Viper’s gaze was glued to the vision before him. Her legs were long and slender, just as he’d thought, and encased in spiked, black leather, thigh-high boots with baby pink ribbon accents. A black leather corset laced with pink ribbon cupped a fine,
fine
set of tits. She sensually lifted her arms to pull a clip free, and long blonde hair cascaded in glorious waves down her back.

Fuck! That woman was so hot as hell that Viper was afraid that his mist would evaporate or he’d break through with a hard-on.

“Damn, woman,” said The King. “You’ll make me come in my pants.”

She sauntered up to The King, gently grabbed his lapels, and pushed his coat off his shoulders. “Now that would be a shame,” she cooed.

The vixen stepped into The King. He lowered his head, and she kissed him and quickly stepped away. “Can you deliver on your promise?” she asked.

“Sure I can. Anything
I
want.”

“You mean anything Cambria wants.”

“Cambria. Cambria. Cambria,” he shook his head sadly. “You don’t know who I am.”

“Of course I do. You’re The King.” She used her fingers as quotes.

“But I’m so much more.” He grabbed her arms and jerked her to him. Then he sniffed her neck. “You’ll taste so fucking good.”

Not on my watch, buddy.

Viper’s concentration was fading fast. Images the size of movie theater screens featuring her beneath him were plastered all over his mind.

Cambria stepped back and spun around in a slow, enticing circle. Her fingers dallied with the ribbon hugging those delectable tits.

Viper was sure his mist was drooling. He hadn’t considered himself a voyeur until now, but there was something exciting about watching her from afar.

She unbuttoned The King’s leather pants and pushed them down to his knees. Her leathered hand stroked his dick, and Viper wished it was his cock she caressed. The little bow disappeared as she pulled on the ribbon tails. “Oh, wait,” she said. “I have a surprise for you.” She eased over to the bed and fumbled in her trench coat. When she spun, something flashed.

* * * * *

Cambria Johnson’s sword sliced through the vampire’s gut.

“Why, you bitch,” he screamed. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

She sneered. God, she hated this motherfucker. She’d watched him for weeks, picking up women from bars who conveniently killed themselves weeks later. She didn’t know how the scumbag did it, but she was sure they didn’t just commit suicide on their own.

“You mean like all those other women, vampire?”

The vampire held his belly. “If you know what I am, surely you know a mere human can’t defeat me.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the other creeps I’ve killed.”

The King laughed, the eerie sound scraping like fingernails on a chalkboard. “I’m a master vampire, born, not made. You can’t defeat me. No one can. And now I’m gonna fuck you and drain you dry.”

The vampire narrowed his eyes and pain ricocheted in her head. What the fuck! She went down on one knee, and suddenly blood dripped from her nose. Oh, holy hell, she was in trouble. The other bastards she’d killed were easy marks. This fucker was causing a brain bleed.

At a gurgling sound, she snapped her head up and forced her eyes open. The King clutched his neck, his eyes bulging, his face as red as a beet. The pain left her head, and she sucked in a huge gulp of air. A pair of shitkickers appeared before her lowered eyes. Her gaze traveled up to the handsome face of the man squatting before her. Where in Hades had he come from?

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

A white handkerchief appeared out of thin air in the man’s hand, and he offered it to her. Friend or foe? Foe, for sure. Anyone in this vampire den was the enemy. She launched herself at the man, hitting him up high. He pitched backward, landing on his back. Cambria scrambled off and turned to see the vamp reclining on his elbows watching her. Keeping her eye on him, she wrapped her hand around the hilt of her blade and tugged.

It wouldn’t move. Grabbing it with two hands, she pulled as hard as she could, but it was too heavy.

“I’ll not let you run me through with that thing. It won’t kill me, but it still hurts like hell.”

His black hair hung in a ponytail down his back. He was dressed in typical vampire attire—leather pants and a black T-shirt. His gaze held hers, almost hypnotic, and he had one brown eye and one crystal blue.

Think, Cambria. Think!

“Let me run it through the bastard,” she said.

Just a chance. All she needed was a sliver of a chance to ask him
the
question and then kill him.

“Fuck no. I’ll destroy him.”

“He’s
my
kill.” She’d stalked this guy for months, and she wasn’t about to let all her work be for naught. “Besides. When does one kill his own kind?”

“When one of them has gone rogue or feral. And killing’s not a woman’s job.”

A chauvinistic vamp?
“All vampires are feral.”
Even the good-looking ones like you.

He grinned. “No, vampires and werewolves have existed peacefully for centuries. Most of us are sane.”

“Werewolves? Who said anything about werewolves?”

The man shrugged; the muscles under his tight T-shirt rippled. He was tall, at least six and a half feet. Powerful muscles bunched under his leather pants as he stood. He extended his hand to her. What the fuck? Did he think she trusted him? She didn’t trust anyone who snacked on people.

Cambria stood up unaided and glanced at The King. “I need to kill this man. Thirteen women have committed suicide after they left the bar with him. I don’t know how he does it, but he needs killing.”

“He implants the idea in their heads, and they follow through. I agree he needs to die, but I will do the killing.”

“Why can’t I?”
Damn, that sounded whiny
.