Hunters' Game (2 page)

A soft, breathless whisper brushed over his
senses, and he looked down at the mortal standing next to him. The
girl was no more than twenty, and she wore the pale make-up that
created a death-masque look that so many of the club's youth seemed
to strive for. Desire sparkled in her hazel eyes. He caught her
wrist as she reached out to touch him. Amused with her bold
recklessness, he lifted the slender limb he'd captured and stroked
the throb of life beneath the translucent surface of her skin. She
watched, enraptured, when he bent over her wrist. Her body
trembled, and she hissed a gasp of pain and pleasure as his
razor-edged fangs pierced her vein and he drank.

Demetri indulged his thirst, but only enough
to whet his appetite, not sate it. The girl leaned into him, her
eyes dazed. He licked at the wounds on her wrist, and smiled when
the soft stroke of his tongue triggered an explosive climax. She
twitched violently, her low moan swallowed by his brief kiss.

"Would you like to dance?"

He ignored her question and released her,
turned his attention to the dance floor.

"Go!" When she refused to accept the
dismissal, he permitted himself the luxury of inciting fear. He
turned to look at her again, and his vision altered, grew sharp and
gilded by flames. She gasped at the force of his stare. This time,
there was no pleasure in her sharp intake of air.

"Fuck you!" She stood her ground for a few
heartbeats, hands on her hips.

"Not interested." He laughed, and his mental
slap made her cry out in pain.

Seconds later, he was alone again.

But
she
was getting closer.

* * * * *

Cliantha relaxed as she moved deeper into
the underground nightlife of Goths and thrill junkies. These
mortals she understood. They toyed with ways to bring death to
them, so they could flirt with the darkness and decadence of those
like her. Excited heartbeats vibrated against her mind, making her
body hunger. She licked her lips, temptation gnawing at her
control.

Reaching the bar where Demetri waited, she
scanned the patrons hoping to get inside. Simply because she was
bored, she plucked stray thoughts from their minds. A fluttering
breeze caught her black silk jacket and it billowed out, revealing
her gauzy blouse. A second, stronger gust had the light material
pressed against her curves, and her nipples hardened painfully. She
caught the interest of one of the men, and winked at him. The girl
next to him saw the exchange and cursed at him.

Cliantha pulled her jacket back into place,
making sure the young man saw her deliberately brush her distended
nipples. She laughed when his mind filled with the image of her
naked breasts, and his mouth sucking them while he fucked her. A
snap of her mind, and he was blinking in confusion at the sudden
loss of her mental touch.

She stopped on the sidewalk, immune to
mutters and curses as people stumbled around her. The sign drew her
eyes upward. Her mood became wicked, delighted as she read the
name: Savage Garden. This place had a reputation for decadence and
the people outside certainly gave credence to the image of
unbridled lust the club's name was meant to incite. Twisted
yearnings and dark desires waiting to be unleashed battered her
mind each time she opened her thoughts to the human throng.

He couldn't have picked a more appropriate
place to let loose the thirsting demons inside them. His presence
called to her, luring, like a flame illuminating the path that
would lead her to salvation. Or, more aptly, eternal damnation.

A satisfied smile curved her mouth, and she
answered the siren-song of her lover's call. She walked past the
crowd, ignoring the mutterings of discontent her audacity incited.
The young man at the door, selecting the clientele for the night,
stared at her. His smile, like so many she'd seen that night, was
speculative, calculating and oblivious to the mortal danger his
lust for her put him in.

"What can I do for you, darling?" His faint
British accent added a pleasant lilt to his insolent query.

He was a nice-looking boy, tall, fair, and
filled with his own importance.

"Let me go in."

"Let me go in and you can have whatever you
want, sweetheart." He leaned close and his tongue flicked at her
earlobe.

"Later." She locked her gaze with his,
penetrating his mind with little effort. "You're busy at the
moment." She nipped the trapped fullness of his bottom lip and
laughed when he jerked back, a droplet of blood staining the corner
of his mouth. She leaned close again and licked the crimson smear,
an electric shock of excitement exploding in her veins when the
metallic taste lingered on her tongue.

She stepped past him as she released her
mental hold and his confusion drifted out of her awareness.

Inside, the bar was murky. Her vision flared
with preternatural sharpness, defining shapes and shadows with
vivid clarity. The stairwell echoed weirdly, distorting sound with
the hammering beat of the music and she almost floated into the
dark room.

At the top of the stairs, she paused again.
Her heartbeat quickened with each step she took closer to contact
with Demetri. The fiery red fixture hanging from the ceiling sent
tendrils of light spiraling outward, crimson streaks glinted off
chrome, absorbed by the shadows. A powerful strobe turned the
dancers into frantic marionettes as the madness of primal music
carried them into their own private darkness.

A flicker of reddish blond hair caught her
eye and her vampiric sight pierced the murky atmosphere, saw him
smile at her from across the room. Already her body hummed with the
knowledge that his hands would soon be on her skin, inciting a
hunger that no one else could feed.

She brushed past the few who lingered near
the top of the stairs, and skirted the metal bars that gave the
place such a distinctive look. By the time she reached where he'd
been, he'd vanished. Grinding her teeth, she whirled around and
studied the crowd. Again, his pale presence drew her. One arched
eyebrow rose in amused challenge.

"Your game is intriguing, love," she
whispered. He'd hear her despite the deafening music.

And which role do you prefer to play?
Predator or prey?
His answer whispered inside her head, and she
grinned.

What does it matter? It always ends the same
and I have never objected.

"Can I get you a drink?"

She started, and reluctantly looked away
from her lover. The newcomer was tall and thin, dressed in black
pants and vest over a starkly white shirt. He had shoulder-length
hair that haloed a face that reflected both innocence and sensual
knowledge. He was rather exquisite.

She nodded and allowed him to guide her to
the bar. She accepted a glass of red wine and strolled toward the
central row of tables. As expected, the boy followed her, but she
stopped at the half-wall bordering the dance floor instead of
moving into the shadows where tables afforded more privacy. She
leaned on the wide ledge that acted as a counter, and peered at the
gyrating dancers who turned the area into a roiling sea of
color.

"You're very beautiful," the young man
whispered.

"Thank you," she replied into his ear. "What
is your name?"

"Felix. You are?"

"Cliantha." She searched the room for
Demetri. The tingle within her began to fan outward, heat and
longing growing more intense with each moment that he denied her.
She looked up at Felix, her fingers trailing lightly over his arm.
She leaned into him, creating a small circle of intimacy around
them as she angled her body toward him.

Cliantha?

She closed her eyes and shuddered, her body
aching with arousal. Demetri's voice inside her head was a caress,
a promise of passion and madness to be indulged at their whim. His
displeasure at her companion's attention amused her, but she wasn't
foolish enough to disregard his annoyance. She smiled at the boy.
Before she could utter a sound, Demetri appeared at her back.

"My love," she murmured as he pushed aside
the collar of her silk jacket and lowered his lips to the bared
curve of her neck. A flush crawled up her spine and quivered in her
stomach as she arched into him.

"Go." The boy fled at Demetri's quiet
command.

Cliantha writhed when he pulled her hips
snug to his.

"Why did you want to come here, Demetri?"
Her voice became breathless as their bodies moved in subtle rhythm
with the blaring music. She tried to turn, but he refused her
movement.

Demetri's hands shifted, slid under her
jacket, and covered her breasts. His fingers teased rigid nipples,
tugging the sensitive tips as he pressed more tightly to her. She
guided his left hand to her thigh, making him murmur his approval.
She raised her foot to the footrest then leaned away from him,
invitation blatant.

He hesitated, so she moved his hand between
her legs, shaking in anticipation of what he'd do when he
encountered bare skin. Demetri's right hand splayed across her
stomach, held her immobile as he penetrated her moist depths,
fingers burrowing into her flesh as she tried not to cry out her
pleasure. She quaked in his arms, thrilled to his touch, her body
caught in the crossfire of bloodlust and the desperate need to have
him inside her.

"Fuck me, Demetri." She cared nothing of
their surroundings.

"In front of all these mortals?" His words
were soft with amusement, reminding her of furtive glances being
cast in their direction. Demetri's expert fingers teased, gliding
over hyper-sensitive flesh as he kissed the side of her neck and
his tongue caressed the throbbing vein at the base.

"Tell me what you want, slut." His voice was
a commanding rasp next to her ear. His fingers pushed deeper into
her pussy, sliding in and out in a rapid rhythm, while his thumb
toyed with her clit.

"I have," she gasped. "As talented as your
fingers are, I want your cock. Fuck me until I can't stand up!"

He bit into her neck, just enough to draw a
drop or two of blood. His growl made her breath catch, and she
moaned, her cunt clenching his stroking fingers. "Please...
Demetri..."

Demetri's fangs buried deeper into her neck,
and he held her through the spasm of euphoria that shook her as he
drank. Timing the sucking of his feeding to the easy rhythm of his
fingers, he denied her the release she'd begged for, kept her on
the edge of ecstasy.

The low, guttural rumble of Cliantha's
frustration added to the sweetness of her blood. When she attempted
to break his hold, he gripped his captive tighter.

Demetri drew away from her neck, and his
fingers slid free of her pussy. He turned her to face him and
brought sticky fingers to his lips. He wiped the droplet of blood
that clung to his mouth, and offered the bloodied finger to her.
She sucked his finger into her mouth and her eyes closed. He pulled
her deeper into the shadows. Her breaths were hoarse, and he held
her close, sharing every tremor that passed through her.

"Come." He sat at a table cloistered in
darkness. She stood before him, tense, dazed, wanton desire in
every rigid detail of her stance. Leaning back, he basked in her
need for his possession.

Chapter Three

Prey

"What do you want, Cliantha?"

"You."

"You have me."

"Let's leave here, Demetri," She managed to
keep the plea from her voice. Not that it mattered; he knew her
thoughts. "I want to go home."

"I thought you would enjoy this place, my
darling." He raised one eyebrow, taunting mockery in his tone. "You
disappoint me."

"It is not you who has been
disappointed!"

"Have I disappointed you, dearest?" His
smirk pissed her off. Before she could hiss at him, he grabbed her
hand and yanked. She stumbled forward, and he lifted her onto his
lap. She straddled his thighs, and he tugged at her heavy skirt,
letting it trail over his right hip. His hands rested on her
thighs, hidden by the luxurious velvet of the skirt.

Cliantha laughed and ran slender fingers
over the fine, spiked length of his strawberry-blond hair. The
longest strands in the front framed his angular face, brushed his
shoulders, then shaped to a point near the centre of his back.
Tonight he had tinted the sculpted top with glittering silver.

She cradled his head between her hands and
gazed into eyes of endless, shifting shades; his right eye, brown,
held all the colors of earth, while in the blue of his other eye,
lived the hues of a forbidden summer sky. Her thumbs brushed over
arched eyebrows, drifted downward to skim the slope of his nose,
and came to rest on either side of his smile.

"I want to make love with you, Demetri." Her
eyes locked again with his. "I want you to possess me. To own me as
no one else can. I want you to consume me so that I live within
you."

"We came here to hunt, darling." He
shrugged.

"I came here to meet my master."

Demetri smiled, the expression far more
gentle than many would have thought him capable, and he pulled her
into a lingering, sensual kiss. He slipped several buttons free,
lifted one soft, full breast to his mouth. His tongue circled her
responsive nipple, flicking with light strokes before he closed his
lips and sucked. Cliantha's moaned softly and he eased away. He
looked up at her, eyes glowing with liquid fire in the darkness,
and his fangs gleamed white and deadly when he smiled.

Cliantha glanced down, laughing at the sight
of her opened blouse and the twin globes of her breasts half hidden
by the gauzy fabric. Her jacket acted like a cape around her
shoulders—only he witnessed her exposed body. She reached lower,
caught at the snap of his dark jeans and tugged it. When he made no
objection, she slid the zipper down and eased the heavy fabric
aside. Her chest heaved, and her breaths were shallow and quick as
she freed his erection and caressed his rigid length.