Sweet Ruin (11 page)

He tried to recall his last marathon session at a covey or pleasure den, yet all he kept seeing was Josephine’s haughty smile.

He knew what was happening. Female vampires were notoriously hypnotic, as entrancing as succubae. It was a survival mechanism, a hunting tool—because both species depended on the bodies of other beings for sustenance.

Tonight he’d been used for food. He should be outraged, but replaying her bite got his cock so hard he feared for his trews.

Those nymphs were right; he had lost his ever-loving mind.

No, no, Josephine had mesmerized him. And with her thong in his pocket—a constant reminder of her scent, her
arousal
—he was primed for her. In time, he’d shake this.

He’d stop thinking about taking her lips.

Because he
could
take them. Dear gods, he finally could without killing. An added bonus: he’d never craved a female’s kiss more than Josephine’s—and that had been
before
he’d known he could have it.

Dawn neared. Nïx was rumored to go out only at night. The light would drive the vampire to ground. He would find neither today.

Though Josephine could have traced anywhere in the universe, she’d be back.

He reached into his pocket. Beside her ripped thong was the necklace he’d stolen, the one she’d been touching to her lip when he’d first come upon her. He pulled it out, turning it in his hands. He’d taken the necklace for turnabout—his fingers were just as sticky as hers—but also because he’d suspected the piece would have meaning.

Those bits of metal were spent bullets.

Oh, yes, she’d be back. He had the bait; how to trap her? Evidently, his hold wouldn’t be enough.

When Rune had set out from Tenebrous, he’d outfitted himself to
kill
a Valkyrie, not to
keep
a vampire. He had no traceproof manacles with him, nor in his sanctuary at Tortua.

The nymphs had told him of a Lore shop in town. If he found a pair of cuffs there, he’d lure the vampire close with the necklace, then snare her.

Once she was his captive, he would do all the forbidden things he’d fantasized about.

Clawing, sucking, tonguing.

Kissing.

One of his most heated fantasies was the simplest: to take a woman’s mouth and make her moan—with pleasure instead of pain.

The last time he’d tasted another’s lips had been a kiss of death. Whenever he pictured kissing, he recalled that night.

Rune yearned for a kiss to erase his last.

Earlier, when one of the nymphs had forgotten herself and sought his lips, he’d grown sickened to remember, but he’d kept fucking. . . .

He pocketed the necklace, his fingers drawn to Josephine’s silk thong as if magnetized. With his other hand, he traced her bite mark, almost healed.

For all he knew, Nïx had dispatched the vampire as a spy. The Møriør’s weaknesses were few, but they could be exploited by a clever strategist. Just as Orion did to his enemies.

Rune stroked the silk again. Tonight he’d come harder than he ever had, and yet touching her panties had his balls so blue every footfall pained him. Maybe he should release some of the pressure, so he could
think
.

A pair of water nymphs at dawn would do the trick. He headed toward the courtyard. He’d just entered when the nymphs strolled in right behind him.

Exactly what he needed, a palate cleanser! A blonde and a redhead—ideal for getting past a brunette. He thought the blonde was named Dew, the redhead Brook. They looked well-tumbled.

What would Josephine look like when well-pleasured? He hadn’t seen to her at all, as she’d pointed out.
But she moaned lustily enough when feeding from me!

He pulled his collar over his bite mark. “Did you two rush through your other trysts to meet me?” Of course they had.

They nodded. The blonde said, “We know tricks to speed things up, you see.”

He’d been forced to learn those same tricks as well. A memory arose of Queen Magh telling him,
Please your customers, cur. Or perish.

Through a wave of revulsion, Rune flashed the nymphs a practiced grin. “May you never use those tricks on me. . . .” He trailed off, his ears twitching. He glanced around, sensing the vampire’s nearness. But he would’ve scented her if she were close.

Damn it, why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Could her mesmerizing still have a hold of him if she wasn’t even here?

“We’ve got some info for you,” Brook said. “Will you pay us
handsomely
for it?”

“Indeed.” He was the Møriør’s secrets master now, and nymphs knew much.

“It’s about the female you were with earlier,” Dew said with a shrewd look. “The one we heard rocking your world.”

Brook added, “The whole parish heard it.”

He didn’t bother with a denial. “Continue.”

“What do you know about her?” Dew asked.

“Very little. Tell me.”

“We think”— Brook lowered her voice—“we think she’s a vampire.”

“What gives you that impression?” he asked, feigning ignorance. “She doesn’t smell like one.”

“We’ve seen her in a fight.” Brook shivered. “She hissed, she had fangs, and her eyes turned black. It’s why we’ve never tried to seduce her.” Few species would harm a nymph, but some vampires craved drinking them dry.

What if they
had
seduced Josephine? He pictured her sleeping with them—and, of course, himself—at the same time. Imagining any combination of attractive tarts servicing him and each other would normally be a pleasant musing.

This one filled him with irritation. He would be plenty for Josephine to handle. Nymphs would just muddy the waters. He pointed out to them, “Black eyes and fangs could mean demon.”

Brook smoothed her hair behind a pointed ear. “But she doesn’t have horns or wings.”

Dew nodded. “We’ve gone our whole lives without seeing a female vampire, and now the streets seem to be teeming with them. There’s a Valkyrie halfling one, and a Dacian one, but she’s sick with vampire plague—”

“Do you know where mine resides?”
Mine.
He almost laughed. That was a word he would never apply to a female.

“I think somewhere in the city,” Dew said. “She comes to the Quarter to pick pockets. She’s a klepto. One time I saw her wandering around in the pouring rain, seeming sad. She looked desperate to steal from someone.”

Josephine had said she’d stolen from him because she wanted to
know
him. Apparently, she knew
many
. The little wench could make a man feel cheap. If he let her.

And what in the hells would she have to be sad about? She was a beautiful, powerful immortal.

Dew smiled slyly. “You want a repeat with your vampire, don’t you?”

A repeat? Josephine’s fangs piercing his neck again? While she pressed her taut nipples into his chest and clawed him . . .

He shrugged, even as his cock jerked in his pants. “I seek her for business only.” Once she returned for her necklace, all would be well.
Time to cleanse my palate.
He swooped Brook into his arms.

She squealed. “Someone’s already raring to go.”

They didn’t need to know his erection wasn’t for them. “When am I not?”

“Rune, your neck!” She stared wide-eyed at it. “You have . . . she
bit
you?”

Dew pawed him. “Let me see!” Her jaw dropped at the bite mark. “That’s so filthy. And hot.”

Gods, it was.

Brook said, “She couldn’t drink your baneblood, though, right?”

“Of course not. Just nipped me with her fangs.”

Dew said, “Still, a bite! She’s a gutsy one for piercing your skin. And you’re a dirty dog for letting her! We knew you walked on the wilder side, but that’s wicked! Can we watch next time?”

“Maybe.” He cast them his crooked grin. “But only if you’re
very
good girls.”

TWELVE

W
hat. A. Skank.

Jo gaped from her spot inside the courtyard wall. This guy was the biggest manwhore she’d ever seen.

And a thief to boot. The bastard had lifted her most prized possession—from her freaking neck—and she’d never noticed! When she’d seen her necklace in his hands, she’d almost attacked. But she couldn’t risk a capture, and she didn’t know what other stunts he was capable of.

She would be forced to wait here until he got so caught up with those nymphs that he didn’t perceive her own thievery. Wouldn’t take long. The females were climbing him like a rock wall.

They thought it wicked for a vampire to bite a dark fey.
They
thought
her
pervy.

Her stomach clenched when he pulled Brook up into his arms and the woman wrapped her legs around his waist.

Jo decided then and there to get more sexual experience. If she’d been around the block, this wouldn’t sting as much. Those nymphs didn’t suffer jealousy. Rune had said “jealousy” like it was a dirty word.

But Jo
was
jealous. The connection she’d thought she’d experienced with him had been one-sided.

What was new?

He palmed the back of the nymph’s head and drew her to his neck, to the unmarked side. “Here, dove, give us a nip. You won’t break my skin.”

Jo straightened. What the hell?

He leaned away, his hair falling to one side, revealing the shaved part of his head and his pointed ear.

Brook said, “You want to fantasize like I’m the vampire?”

Dew giggled.

“Just so,” he baldly admitted. “And it’d help if you two quieted down.”

The nerve of this asshole! Did those nymphs have
no
pride? And why would he be fantasizing about Jo when he’d been so quick to pass her over?

To contemplate her murder?

God, this man confused her!

While Dew struggled to unfasten his belt, Brook bit his neck.

Rune commanded, “Harder, dove.”

Yes, Jo had seen weird things in the course of her voyeurism, but this male trying to relive her own bite was bizarre. Despite herself, her fangs sharpened into points.

“I said harder,” he grated.

I would bite him till he howled for mercy.

With a mouthful of his skin, the nymph mumbled, “I’m ’iting as ’ard as I ’an!”

“It’s no good.” He made a sound of frustration. “Leave off, Dew.”

Brook
released his neck and jerked her thumb at the other nymph. “She’s Dew.”

That nymph had finally managed to unfasten his belt and was reaching for his fly.

“Whatever.” Rune flexed his claws. “Draw back. I’m about to bleed.”

“So freaking hot,” Brook breathed, but she leaned far back.

He stuck two claw tips into the remnants of Jo’s bite. Piercing his own neck, he gave a mindless groan and his eyes slid closed.

With a whimper, Dew fumbled to get his pants undone.

As his throat worked, blood trickled down his neck. It
was
so freaking hot. That dark, rich blood of his.
To have just one more taste . . .

Ruined.

But unlike the nymphs, Jo did have pride. She wanted him only for the things he’d taken—and now was the time to strike.

Her scent.

Rune’s eyes shot wide when he caught that lush thread of meadowberry. Was he imagining it?

No, Josephine was materializing right in front of him. “Oh, Ruin . . .” Her shoulders were back, her chin raised. Her hazel eyes glittered.

He dropped Brook. Without a glance down, he shoved Dew’s hand from his fly.

Had the vampire seen his attempts to mimic her bite? His fantasizing about her as he used two stand-in nymphs? At least he hadn’t yet brought out her thong.

“Poor Ruin. I’m often imitated.” She gestured to the nymphs. “And
never
duplicated.”

Why did he feel guilty about the females, as if he’d been disloyal?

He was ever loyal to those that mattered. Josephine meant nothing to him. Nothing more than a mystery to be solved—and a liability to be handled.

A liability with the most exquisite bite.

In a whiskey voice, she said, “If you hadn’t decided to capture me, I would’ve fang-fucked your neck till you screamed.”

Filthy, wicked girl.
I want her NOW.