Dark Destiny (Principatus) (22 page)

She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him to stop being a stupid, macho male. What came out instead was, “I don’t want to lose you.”

The confession hung on the air between them. Her eyes widened, her pulse leapt away from her, and then she did the only thing she could do. The only thing she wanted to do.

She leant forward and kissed him.

Chapter Nine

Ven took her from behind. His balls slapped against Amy’s cunt as he pumped into her, the bright mid-morning sunlight pouring over his naked chest and face, heating his flesh, making him sweat.

It felt good. No longer fighting the lure of the creature he really was. It felt right. More than right.

He rammed into her sodden sex, filling her again and again, his claws puncturing her hips, his growls puncturing the air.

Amy moaned, laying face first over the back of her sofa, her hands scrambling for a grip on the piece of furniture’s faux suede. She begged him to stop. She begged for more. He did the latter, his demon growing stronger with every savage thrust, the monster he truly was in complete and utter control.

Steven Owen Watkins no longer existed.

He stared into the sunlight. Let its harsh rays burn indelible shadows on his retina.

The sun. His enemy no more.

The realization sent a charge of triumphant elation through him and he increased his speed, punching in Amy’s pussy with such power he could feel her pelvic bone smash against the root of his shaft. Hot pain stabbed into his groin and he threw back his head, roaring at the pleasure it brought to his body.

The hunger in his gut, the craving for blood, grew wilder, more demanding with each penetration. He welcomed it. The gnawing ache of denied consumption turned the carnal rapture of his copulation with Amy to a dark bliss. It fed his demon and his demon thrived. This is what it was to be a vampire. Domination. Power. Possessing on all levels those weaker than he. First with his body and then with his mouth and teeth.

“I’m coming, Ven!” Amy cried out, not for the first time in the last two hours. “Oh, fucking Jesus Christ, I’m coming!”

A thin grin stretched Ven’s lips and he withdrew his cock from her cunt in a sudden jerk. “No you’re not, little girl.” He grabbed a fistful of her hair, holding her to the lounge. He pumped his erection in his free hand. “Not until I say you are.”

Amy whimpered, shoving her arse backward, trying to turn her head to look at him. “God, please, Ven, please!”

Her sobs lit a fire in Ven’s core. He closed his eyes, enjoying the bright light burning into his eyelids even as the sun’s shadow danced behind them. He’d made love in the sun before, many years ago, before his transformation, but he’d never realized its true beauty until now. The sun revealed all.

It felt exquisite. Heat and fire and molten electricity all at once.

His fangs grew longer still, piercing his bottom lip and his own blood trickled into his mouth, down his parched throat.

His demon screamed with ravenous need, its starvation at breaking point. He had not fed from the vein of a human for over forty-eight hours. The agony twisting through his pleasure was overwhelming. A potent aphrodisiac he’d never imagined possible.

Pumping at his cock in savage strokes, he opened his eyes again and stared at the sun through the window. Pleasure. Pain. Hunger. Fulfillment. He had it all. He needed nothing.

White eyes flashed into his head. The white eyes of timeless power.

Nothing except Death.

A jolt of scalding want for the Fourth Horseman stabbed into his chest, straight into his unbeating heart and, before he could stop it, thick wads of cum burst from his cock. Arcing through the air to fall onto Amy’s smooth back.

Ven stared at the splattered product of his pleasure. Watched, fascinated as it dribbled over her sweat-soaked shoulder blade. And still primal desire burned through him. For Death. The woman and the demon.

“Fuck me, Ven. Please,” Amy begged, her voice raw and terrified.

“What are you afraid of, little girl?” Ven growled, the ache and want in his core well on its way to devour any ability he still had for rational thought. Until he could claim the one he truly wanted, he would sate his hunger on the female before him. He tugged on her hair with one hand and plunged the middle finger of his other into her pussy. She bucked and pushed back into his hand, whimpering and sobbing even as she tried to grind her clit on his knuckle. “Tell me what you are afraid of and I will let you come.”

Her sex squeezed his finger. “I’m scared of you, Ven!” she burst out, voice choked with fear. The very fear he could taste on the breath she exhaled and the perspiration slicking her skin. “I’m scared of you. Scared of what you are.” She sobbed. “Scared you won’t give me what I want.”

Scalding rapture flooded Ven’s still-rigid cock. At the very second ice-cold insight flooded his heart.

He was a monster. A depraved creature of depraved lust.

What was he doing?

What does it matter?

Bitter pleasure and baleful power claimed him and he chuckled, the sound low and soulless.

It was time to feed.

He tightened his fist in her hair and jerked her backward, slamming her against his chest. “Are you ready, little girl?” he breathed in her ear, slipping his finger from her sex.

She squirmed, shifting her legs further apart. “Yes.” Her answer was hardly more than a whisper.

Ven smiled, saliva rolling down his fangs. “Of course you are.” He aligned the head of his cock with her spread folds, lowered his head to her neck and—

The distinct scent of another vampire threaded into his nostrils.

Male vampire.

Fury erupted through him. Incinerating and absolute. She’d been with another vampire. Another vampire had taken what was only his to take. His demon screeched, and Ven yanked Amy harder to his chest.

So be it. If she wanted to be a vampire’s food source, he would make her a vampire’s food source. He would feed on her blood until there was nothing left in her veins to take. He would drain her dry until she was an empty carcass to be thrown away with the trash.

He opened his mouth. Touched his lips to Amy’s bowed neck.

Tasted her fear and sweat with the tip of his tongue. Tasted the mark of the other vampire.

His demon roared. Ready, eager, for the kill. The sweet, sweet kill.

No.

The shout tore through his head. Snapped him frozen.

His shout. His voice. His
human
voice.

Guilt and horror smashed into him. He staggered backward, staring at her. Watching her turn to face him, her big brown eyes wide with petrified confusion.

Oh, Jesus. What had he just been about to do?

“Ven?” She took a step toward him, naked body flushed with perspiration, musky desire wafting to him on the air.

He shook his head, raising his hands as though to ward her off. “No.”

She blinked, and in the space it took her eyelids to close, he spun about, snatched up his jeans and folded space.

Fleeing.

From her. From any living soul around him.

The morning sun slammed into him as he sliced through the air. He propelled himself over Kings Cross, particles of existence without substance or form. The monster within him screamed, furious at its denied kill and long-overdue feed. Confusion twisted in his consciousness, almost rivaling the agonizing hunger he felt. What was he doing?

Where was he going?

Patrick.

His brother’s name flittered through the red haze of his torment but he forced the notion from his mind. He could not go near Patrick yet, no matter how desperate he longed for the sense of safety and familiarity his brother provided. He was too unstable. Too volatile. Too…

Dangerous?

Monstrous?

Weak.

The contemptuous thought filled him with self-loathing so sharp for a moment he felt himself ripping in two. Human. Demon. Both denied existence. Neither existing without the other.

Jesus, what are you doing?

The lashing of leaves and branches at his face and the strong smell of eucalyptus and seaweed on the air told him he’d reached his destination before he realized he was on the ground. He stumbled to a halt, nostrils flaring, and looked about his surroundings.

An ancient gum tree towered over him, standing at the edge his favorite beach, an isolated crescent of pristine sand and perfect curling waves just south of Bondi Beach. Hidden at the base of a craggy cliff, it was impossible to get to by foot and known only by a handful of the most diehard surfers. So small it had never been charted on any map that Ven knew of, nor named by any town planner. He’d surfed here with Patrick most days when alive. He surfed here most nights since dying.

A gentle offshore breeze blew against his face and he closed his eyes, letting its cool caress calm him.

The beach. Almost his second home. Peaceful. A place where he knew what he was at heart. Just an Aussie bloke who loved to surf.

Taking the comforting smell of the beach into his body, he opened his eyes, scanning the narrow strip and the waves beyond for signs of human life.

None. He had it all to himself.

“Thank the bloody Lord.”

Watching a perfect set of waves crash over the beach’s shallow coral reef, Ven let himself smile. He felt more relaxed already. Less an evil fiend. Better. He felt better.

Another breeze, this one a little stronger, a little colder, gusted past him and a surprised chuckle bubbled past his lips. ’Struth, he was naked. Where the hell were his jeans?

Spotting them crumpled on the ground amongst dry leaves and twigs a few steps away, he walked over and grabbed them up. The urge to cast them aside, to run down the sand and plunge head first into the breaking waves as naked as the day he was born rolled over him. He looked at the surf, lifted his gaze to the midday sun and back to the surf again. It was tempting. To submerge himself in the water…to submerge himself in a life he once thought lost to him forever.

The waves had no memory. They cast no judgment.

He took one step forward.

Go on. Do it. Let the surf scour away the guilt and contempt still churning in your gut. You know you’ll feel better. Almost human, in fact.

Stinging disdain smacked into him, a merciless slap of reality. He scrunched up his face, yanking his jeans up his legs and over his arse. He wasn’t human, no matter how much he longed to be so. What he’d just done to Amy in her living room, what he’d just been about to
do
to Amy proved that all too well. A quick skinny-dip in the ocean wasn’t going to change the fact he was a vile creature of malevolent myth. What he had to do now was prove to himself he
wasn’t
the monster lurking in his veins.

“Fair dinkum, you’re one fucked up vampire, Steven Watkins.”

He dropped to his arse on the sand, resting his elbows on his knees to watch the waves build and break, build and break in a lulling, perpetual rhythm. The sun peeked at him through the branches of the old eucalypt, painting him in a dappling pattern, and he closed his eyes again, breathing in the perfection of the moment. This was heaven. This was where, when the time came and some little Buffy wannabe staked him in the heart, he wanted to spent eternity. If he tried hard enough, he could almost believe the insidious, powerful hunger devouring him from within was just a case of the midday munchies.

A twig snapped behind him.

In a blur of shifting muscles, he was on his feet, his stare locking on the creature standing under the trees before him.

His throat slammed shut and his fists bunched.
Oh, fuck.

“What the bloody hell are you?”

He is a q’thulu.

Ven started, snapping his head to the disembodied voice to his right.

A man stood there. A skinny man in a black suit with sallow flesh and lank, greasy hair.

The man smiled at him, revealing rotting yellow teeth.

He is a touch grumpy. I had to bend many rules to rouse him from his slumber, so I do not think this will be pleasant for you.

Ven blinked. Every molecule in his body churned. His stomach, sick from starvation, rolled. His demon screeched and without thought or hesitation, he shifted, letting the very thing he’d fled from mere minutes ago rear to the surface again.

Whoever the man in the suit was, Ven didn’t like him. At all.

I must say, I have never been able to locate you, Steven Watkins. Until today, that is. It is surprising to find you standing in the sun.
The man pursed his lips, a contemplative expression flashing across his face before he smiled.
I would stay to watch, but the sight of one demon tearing apart another quite frankly makes me feel ill.
Yellow teeth flashed in the sunlight, glistening with thick, putrid saliva.
Ironic, really.
He lifted his hand in a small wave. And vanished.

Throat squeezing tighter still, Ven swung his stare back to the horrific thing waiting amongst the trees. “Fuck,” he muttered again.