Nymph (A Paranormal Romance Trilogy, #1) (3 page)

And so reluctantly, she let it go and yanked open her fly, rolling the denim and panties down her legs until they dropped with gravity to her ankles. Her high heels clicked on the concrete floor, and he pushed her vest top up to expose her tits. The cold air stiffened her nipples and tickled at the heat of her swollen pussy, and as he began to feast on one of her tits, she frigged her clit with speed and precision, getting herself ever closer, her breath loud and busty now.

This silent stranger was just what she wanted, and his massive cock was just what she needed inside her.

She pulled down his jeans and shorts, and slapped her hand on his naked ass, pulling it closer to her, feeling the heat and stiffness pressing into her, wanting it so badly, but unsure if she could take it.

His face continued to feast on her tits, and she moaned to him about how badly she needed to be fucked right now.

The tip tickled at her wet, swollen lips, and with one powerful and painful thrust, he pushed deep inside, filling her up with his cock, making her gasp and swear and yelp and moan.

It made her dizzy how wonderful it felt.

And then he started to fuck her, and everything became a blur. She could feel her tits heaving with each powerful thrust of his hips, feeling her pussy take so much more than she ever thought she could.

Her whole body was one giant nerve ending, pulsing with desire and electric arousal, his cock teasing every inch of her, his mouth sucking hard into her neck.

She wanted to come so badly, feel it consume her, but the intensity was too much, and it just washed over her in waves more powerful than any orgasm.

This was the fuck she had been craving all her life.

Pushed up against a wall by a stranger, pounding at her body like there was no tomorrow.

And then she felt how close she was to coming.

Knowing now she was ready.

And it did consume her.

She lost time, and when she came to her senses, he was still fucking her, more slowly now, breathless, tiring, struggling to keep up his previous intensity.

He was grunting and gasping for air, his teeth gritted tight, like he was running a marathon.

So slow now.

No energy left in him.

Her passion and desire for him drained as quickly as his energy had done. He was pale, almost lifeless, barely holding her, his cock shrinking.

She wasn’t even going to get her prize of a come-filled hole.

He stood up and looked her in the eye, nothing left in him, and smiled forlornly, before a flash and lunge, and he hissed as he suckled back into her neck, his erection gone now but still inside her.

But he bit hard, enough to make her gasp with pain.

And then another blur of light, a loud swoosh, and a hooded man slammed into her lover, taking him away from her with a vicious swipe.

She swore and nearly screamed, watching the two of them tumble to the ground, pawing and clawing at one another, fists flying, mouths biting, a tumble of fury and violence.

Automatically she pulled her jeans up and pulled her top down and forgot everything that had been happening moments before, as two giant men fought on the floor of the alley.

The hooded figure got the upper hand, pinning his knees on her lover’s arms. Her lover hissed and spat, trying to bite, but unable to get a clench on anything.

The hooded man slammed down a parade of punches, cracking his fists into bone, subduing the rage of her lover.

And Chloe didn’t know what to do.

Her training deserted her, and she just stood there, watching as the hooded man pulled out a weapon of some kind, held it in both hands above his head, and slammed it down into the other man’s chest.

The noise it made was sickening.

He’d stabbed him right through the heart.

And when he climbed to his feet, the hooded man turned to look at her, just as the corpse at his feet vanished in the blink of an eye.

“Hello Chloe,” he said from under his hood, breathless.

“What the fuck is going on?”

H
unter caught his breath, watching Chloe’s hand hover at her hip like she was expecting to find her gun there.

It was clear she was terrified, and the adrenaline was pumping through her body, putting her even more on edge. Her eyes were wide, and she was staring at the bloodied piece of wood in his hand.

He tossed it into a pile of garbage.

That shook her from her frozen stance, and her head snapped to where the corpse had been, making her eyes widen even more.

Hunter held up his hand.

“There’s a lot to explain.”

She saw the blood on his fingers, and that snapped her into action.

Chloe strode off down the alley, barging past him, and out towards the relative safety of the busy street beyond. It was all Hunter could do to turn and follow her, trying not to spook her even more, just matching her speed and keeping his distance.

And even in these circumstances, he couldn’t help staring at her ass as she moved, taut and peachy under her jeans; this was the effect she had on him, the effect she had on all of them. It was her gift, and she didn’t even know about it.

When she reached the sidewalk, she stopped and stood directly underneath a lamp post, letting the orange glow surround her, making sure she was completely visible to the few civilians milling up and down the street. The odd car passed slowly behind her, not sure if she was hooking or not.

Hunter stood a distance from her, leaning against the closed storefront, its cold metal shutters at his back, his hands deep in his pockets. He watched her from under his hood, making sure she could see his face. She seemed so little.

Time ticked on, and she just studied him, making her mind up, and he couldn’t help taking in the swell of her tits under that tiny vest top, couldn’t help lusting after those nipples, still swollen from her fuck, couldn’t help wanting her.

With a sniff, she came to a conclusion, and strode off down the sidewalk.

Hunter counted to ten, then started to follow.

Her pace was brisk, but not fast, and she wasn’t about to run. Those heels clacking on the concrete would see to that; unless she kicked them off and bolted away barefoot.

It was hard to judge, and he was prepared to give her some time, and some space.

But only some.

She steered right and into another alley, and he smiled, thinking she had come to her senses and was prepared to talk.

When he turned into the alley, he felt her fist smack into his mouth.

His hand snapped up and grabbed her wrist, but she was ready for that, and dropped her hip, spinning him round and locking his arm high above his head as she eased him down to his knees.

Her attack had been swift, and she had subdued him with an expertise he should have expected; but he’d been distracted by the curves of her body, and he realised that had been her intention all along.

He felt some plastic slip around his wrist, felt his body being yanked around, felt the plastic loop onto his other wrist, and he was tied up, face on the ground, her knee in the small of his back.

“Talk,” she hissed into his ear, so close he could feel the heat of her breath on him.

“You’re a Nymph.”

“Fuck you,” she snarled, pushing more weight onto his back, making him wince with pain.

“My name’s Hunter,” he changed tack.

“Don’t care. Why are you following me you limey bastard?”

“Because you’re a Nymph.”

She ground her knee deeper onto his spine, letting him feel the bone on bone.

“I’m not fucking you. You’re a killer.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me up and I’ll explain.”

She pushed his face harder against the concrete, her reply perfectly clear.

“Fine. The Southland Slayer doesn’t exist,” he said.

“Taking credit now are ya?”

“It’s no one person. There’s a pack of them. I’m hunting them.”

“Trying to tell me I just fucked a serial killer?”

“No, you just fucked a vampire.”

Her grip loosened.

Hunter took the opportunity, and whipped his body round, wrestling from her grip and staggering to his feet. He leaned back against the wall, his wrists still bound, showing her he had no intention of moving again.

She was on her feet now, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You’re full of shit.”

“You saw it with your own eyes.”

“I saw you stake someone through the chest.”

“And you saw that someone vanish.”

“Trick of the light,” she sniffed, then spat on the floor. He realised she was out of breath and trembling. “No such thing as vampires.”

“That’s technically correct. Not how you know them anyway.”

“You’re mental.”

“They’re Suckers. They fed on human blood, then discard the exsanguinated corpses when they’re done. Sound familiar?”

“Anyone can watch the news.”

“Two puncture wounds in the neck.”

She sniffed; that hadn’t been made public. Nor had the next thing.

“Acid burns to the face.”

“That thing wasn’t about to kill me,” she said, and she was right. “He was having too much fun. Then he was just exhausted.”

“That’s because you’re a Nymph.”

“Fuck. You.”

“It’s not an insult. You’re an actual Nymph. A demi God.”

She shook her head in disgust, and started to walk away. But she stopped after only a few paces, and sat on a garbage can. Hunter used the moment to test the strength of his restraints.

She looked at him, waiting for him to carry on talking.

“Ever since you came of age, you’ve needed sex every night.”

She shrugged.

“You get depressed if you don’t get it, and self-satisfaction is no solution.”

“We’ve all got needs.”

“Yours isn’t a need. It’s a must. Without sex, you can’t function.”

“I’m still not buying this.”

“And the Suckers, they’re drawn to you. They’ve been gathering here for months now, seeking you out, and tonight, one of them found you.”

“Sounds like any hook up site to me.”

“But they only know half the story.”

“The story you’re making up.”

“What they don’t know is that fucking you drains them of their life force.”

He flicked his neck, trying to slip the hood free from his head. He managed to get it half done, and she saw his face properly for the first time. He hoped she could see the sincerity in his eyes, but she was too angry and confused.

“So,” she said, stressing the single syllable for a long beat. “That, thing, would have died if it had kept going?”

“It’s already dead.” When she rolled her eyes, he quickly added, “But you were taking whatever it was that keeps it walking.”

“So I didn’t need you to intervene.”

“No,” he conceded. “But I needed to intervene.”

Her eyes asked the question.

“Because you don’t need what you were draining. I do. It keeps me going.”

“It gives you sustenance?” she spat the last word.

“Without it, I die.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m one hundred and forty three years old.”

“Fuck off.”

“Every time I kill one, I gain more time.”

“I’m gonna leave you here to rot,” she said, but didn’t move. It was clear she needed some proof though, and Hunter didn’t blame her.

“You know what kind of hold you have over men.”

“These help,” she said, grabbing her perfect tits and jiggling them.

“It’s more than that though, and you know it.”

“Men want what I need.”

“Exactly.”

“So what’s new?”

“Anyone ever turned you down?”

She thought about it, shrugged.

“You could get a guy to fuck you in front of his new bride at the altar.”

“Sounds fun.”

“And get the Vicar to join in. You know I’m right.”

It was a lot to digest, and she was taking her time, but he could see it was slowly sinking in.

“You killed it with a stake?”

“Yes.”

“Do they have reflections?”

“Yes.”

“Can they come out in the daylight?”

“Yes.”

“Garlic?”

“Nothing.”

“What’s with the acid burns?”

“It’s a venom, used to subdue the victim. Only after death does it burn.”

“And I’m a demi God?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck off.”

She got up and strode past him, heading back out to the street once more. He needed a kicker now.

“Your birthmark,” he blurted.

She stopped in her tracks, but didn’t turn around.

“If you don’t get any, it itches, and when you finger it, it’s the only thing that comes close to relieving your urges. But even then, it’s no way near.”

She said nothing.

“It’s on your hip. Shaped like a butterfly.”

With that she turned around and stared at him.

A gentle flexing of his biceps, and he pulled the plastic restraints in half, bringing his hands out to his sides.

“Everything I’ve told you is true.”

“Vampires?”

“Suckers.”

“Attracted to me because I’m a Nymph?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m bad news for them?”

“Yes.”

“And you feed off of them like they feed off of us?”

“Yes.”

“Here? In Los Angeles?”

“Yes.”

“Good night.”

She walked off and never looked back.

“Shit.”

C
hloe was stewing.

That’s the word she’d settled on to describe her emotions since her encounter with the hooded stranger the other night.

Hunter? Was that his name?

Stupid name, for a man clearly out of his mind.

Nothing he’d said made any sense, and yet.

And yet.

It had all made some sort of sense in her mind.

If nothing else, it explained one thing – this constant, unending need for sex. It was voracious, and always had been. If anything, it was getting more and more powerful, and harder and harder to ignore. Even now, as she was stewing, half her mind was fantasising about having her clit licked by a random guy, or her ass fingered, or her butt spanked, or her mouth fucked, or just about anything that would help get her off.