The Hunt

THE HUNT “Why did you want to come to this place, Nicholas?” she asked, her voice breathless as their bodies moved in subtle rhythm with the blaring music. She tried to turn, but he refused her movement. Nicholas’ hands shifted, slid under the concealing black silk of her jacket, and quickly covered the soft mounds of her breasts. His fingers teased rigid nipples, tugged the sensitive tips repeatedly as he pressed more tightly to her. He laughed softly when she grabbed his left hand and guided it to her thigh. She raised her leg, rested her foot on the bar that ran beneath the ledge a few inches above the floor, then leaned to the right. Nicholas now had easy access to her. When he hesitated, she covered his hand with hers and moved it between her legs. She wore nothing under the heavy skirt. Nicholas’ 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 trembled violently in his arms, thrilled to his touch, as the heat and hunger rose to consume her. “Fuck me, Nicholas.” She wanted him with desperate hunger, mindless of their surroundings and the curious looks that were surreptitiously being cast in their direction. Nicholas’ expert fingers were teasing, 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,” he murmured next to her ear. “I have,” she gasped, then moaned softly when he buried two fingers in her wetness. “Please… Nicholas…” Nicholas’ fangs pierced her neck, and he felt the spasm of euphoria that shook her entire body as he drank…

ALSO BY DENYSE M. BRIDGER Any Other Way The Darkest Place Dayne Destiny Met Dream Sequence A Safer Haven Winner Take All

THE HUNT BY DENYSE M. BRIDGER

AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

THE HUNT AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2004 by Denyse M. Bridger ISBN 1-59279-283-9 Cover Art © 2004 Trace Edward Zaber

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PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

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The heavy darkness in the sky had been threatening rain all day; now, late in the evening, the promise remained unfulfilled. But it was there. Like so many other threats lurking within the shadows. As she watched, the storm-gray above her deepened, and a gust of wind tore chunks of white cloud to shreds and tossed them carelessly into the emerging maelstrom until they lost their airborne wildness and settled over the ground in a shroud of fog. Amid the swirl of night-cooling, rain-laden air, she stood, waiting and watching. In time, she smiled, and began to walk…and to soak in all that surrounded her, both the physical and the internal nuances that caressed her heightened mental awareness… Spring was nearing but the chill of winter continued to dominate the air. The Toronto street was expectedly busy; people moved rapidly through the surreal, falsified daylight created by the glowing streetlights. Among the crowd she walked, completely at ease with the knowledge that she stood out among the multitude of faces and bodies 1

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that populated the busy area. Emerging from the swaths of cottony, damp mist, she felt their thoughts washing over her, heard their unspoken words of praise; she was the kind of woman all people noticed, and appreciated. Men gazed at her with longing, women with combined envy and pride for the magnificent creature who embodied the beauty of their gender. She glanced into the bustling crowd and snared the eyes of a staring man. Forging a passing bond with his mind, she laughed silently as she saw herself through his eyes for a fleeting instant… Blue-black hair cascaded along the smooth curve of her back, and jet-dark eyes glittered as neon and artificial sunlight caught in their inky depths and reflected back. Long, shapely legs were glimpsed with each step she made, the thigh-high slits of her vivid electric blue velvet skirt daring anyone to touch her—to even think about touching her. A lightweight, knee-length, black silk jacket fluttered in the whisper of breeze that stirred the air. Beneath it was a snow-white, gauzy blouse that caressed soft, delectable breasts that bobbed enticingly with every precise step she took. Black stiletto heels clicked on the concrete sidewalk and her cultivated arrogance shrouded her in mystery and sensual allure. She released her hold on the stranger’s thoughts as quickly as she’d seized them, then continued her walk. She smiled when several young men eyed her and she read the calculations their minds made as each decided if they were, indeed, brave enough to attempt an approach. Her laughter as her gaze swept over each of them in turn was all the deterrent they needed to leave her alone. She knew what she wanted tonight, and her heart was perfectly attuned to his presence. Somewhere in this crowded mélange of people, Nicholas deVerieux waited and watched. She paused for a few moments at a dark corner, closed her eyes and reached out to the night. A shudder of rapture softened lovely features as she felt the mental caress of his pleasure. He called her to him, taunting her mind with waves of memory and promises yet to be 2

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fulfilled; their game began in earnest. *

*

*

Mortal heartbeats were an undercurrent to the steady throb of the music that reverberated throughout the noisy club. Youth, wild and insolent with the assurance of their brief mortality. A cool smile curved the thin, vaguely cruel mouth, though none who might have witnessed the expression could ever have understood the source of his macabre humor. He toyed with the glass in his hand, long tapering fingers stroking the smooth surface, remembering her skin. He looked at the young people who drifted through the room, each locked in their own worlds. They played at death and immortality, but the truths would terrify them. A soft, breathless whisper drew his attention outward, and he looked down into the simulated death-masque of a girl who could have been no more than twenty. Her desire was naked in her hazel eyes and he caught her wrist as she reached out to touch him. Amused in his dark, decadent fashion, he lifted the slender limb he’d captured and stroked a caress over the throb of life that pulsed rhythmically beneath the pale surface of her skin. She watched in rapt fascination when he bent over her wrist and he heard, distantly, the gasp of pain and pleasure as razor-edged fangs pierced her vein and he drank. The explosive force of her sudden climax reached him through the taste of her blood, and he licked the tiny wounds he’d made, healing them instantly. “Would you like to dance?” she asked, a glimmer of irritation and startlement in her tone now that he refused to look at her further. “No.” It was curt, a dismissal. When she was reluctant to accept the obvious suggestion, he permitted himself the luxury of inciting fear. Ancient, odd-colored eyes flickered with golden fire, and the girl gasped. This time there was no pleasure in the sharp intake of air. He was alone once again seconds later. 3

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But she was getting closer. *

*

*

Deeper into the underground nightlife of Goths and thrill junkies she strolled in complete ease. It took only a short time to locate the bar Nicholas had named earlier in the evening, and she approached it with mild curiosity. She stopped on the sidewalk, immune to the mutters and curses her abrupt halt caused as people stumbled around her. The sign drew her eyes upward, and her mood transformed and became wickedly delighted as she read the name: Savage Garden. He couldn’t have picked a more appropriate place, she mused. She didn’t doubt for an instant that she would find him inside; his presence was like a flame illuminating the path that would lead her to salvation. Or, more aptly, eternal damnation. Smiling now, a secretive and highly seductive curve to her mouth, she answered the siren-song of her lover’s call. A crowd was standing outside the entrance and she walked past them, ignoring the mutterings of discontent her audacity incited. The young man who stood at the door, selecting the clientele for the night, stared at her. His smile was like so many she’d seen that night, speculative and calculating, and absurdly oblivious to the mortal danger he was in as he lusted for her. “What can I do for you, darling?” he asked, his faint English accent adding a pleasant lilt to the overtly insolent query. He was a nice-looking boy, she noted with a sweeping glance—tall, fair, and filled with his own importance. “Let me go in,” she replied sweetly. “Let me go in and you can have whatever you want, sweetheart,” he murmured when he leaned close and his tongue flicked lightly at the lobe of her ear. “Later,” she whispered, locking her gaze with his, penetrating his mind with little effort. “You’re busy at the moment,” she added with a light nip at his bottom lip. She chewed the trapped fullness of his lip, 4

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and laughed when he pulled back abruptly, a droplet of blood staining the corner of his mouth. She leaned close again and licked at the crimson smear, an electric shock of excitement exploding in her veins when the metallic taste lingered on her tongue. She stepped past him and went inside, laughing quietly as she released her mental hold on him and felt his confusion drifting out of her awareness. Inside, the bar was dark and turbid. Her eyes flared for several heartbeats, then her preternatural vision sharpened and defined shapes and shadows with vivid clarity. Nicholas had arrived before her. The stairwell echoed weirdly with the hammering beat of the music, and she floated up into the dark room. At the top of the stairs, she paused again. Unnecessary breaths were quickened with excitement and anticipation. The fiery red light above her head sent tendrils of light spiraling outward, the crimson streaks of bloody color glinting off chrome and being absorbed by the shadows. A powerful strobe turned the dancers into frantic marionettes as they let the madness of the primal music carry them into their own private darknesses. A flicker of reddish blond caught her eye, and she pierced the murky atmosphere without thought, saw him smile at her from across the room. Her body tingled with greater exhilaration, and she shivered unconsciously. Already, she could feel his hands on her skin, inciting a hunger that no one else could feed. She brushed past the few people who lingered near the top of the stairs, skirted around the metal bars that gave the place such a distinctive look. By the time she reach the spot, he’d vanished. Furious and frustrated, she whirled around and scanned the crowd more closely. Again, his pale presence drew her instantly. One slightly arched eyebrow rose in amused challenge. “Your game is intriguing, love,” she whispered, and knew he’d hear her despite the deafening music. 5

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::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?” The unexpected voice startled her and she reluctantly looked away from her lover. The newcomer was tall and thin, dressed in midnightcolored pants and vest. His shirt was a frothy creation of soft cotton and lace trimmed cuffs. His hair was shoulder length, chestnut silk, haloing a face that reflected both innocence and sensual knowledge. He was rather exquisite, she conceded silently. 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 they stopped at the half wall that ringed the dance floor instead of moving into the shadows where tables afforded more privacy to the patrons. She leaned on the wide ledge that acted as a counter-like table surface for all who stood there, and peered at the gyrating dancers who turned the area into a roiling sea of color and motion. “You’re very beautiful,” the young man whispered, almost as if he were afraid to let her hear the words. “Thank you,” she replied into his ear. “What is your name?” “Felix. You are?” “Callandra.” Her response was vague as she searched the room for Nicholas. As before, the pale glow of his presence drew her. The tingle within her began to fan outward, the warmth and longing becoming more intense with each moment that he denied her his touch. ::Callandra?:: She closed her eyes and shuddered as her body ached with aroused hunger. Nicholas’ voice inside her head was a caress, a promise of passions and madness to be sated and indulged at their whims. His displeasure at her companion’s attention amused her, but she wasn’t 6

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foolish enough to disregard his annoyance. She looked at the boy and smiled. Before she could utter a sound, she felt Nicholas 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. The shiver of warmth rippled her spine and she felt her stomach lurch wildly as she pressed herself back against him. “Go.” Nicholas’ quiet command sent the boy away instantly. Callandra squirmed against him when his hands pulled her hips more snugly to his. “Why did you want to come to this place, Nicholas?” she asked, her voice breathless as their bodies moved in subtle rhythm with the blaring music. She tried to turn, but he refused her movement. Nicholas’ hands shifted, slid under the concealing black silk of her jacket, and quickly covered the soft mounds of her breasts. His fingers teased rigid nipples, tugged the sensitive tips repeatedly as he pressed more tightly to her. He laughed softly when she grabbed his left hand and guided it to her thigh. She raised her leg, rested her foot on the bar that ran beneath the ledge a few inches above the floor, then leaned to the right. Nicholas now had easy access to her. When he hesitated, she covered his hand with hers and moved it between her legs. She wore nothing under the heavy skirt. Nicholas’ 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 trembled violently in his arms, thrilled to his touch, as the heat and hunger rose to consume her. “Fuck me, Nicholas.” She wanted him with desperate hunger, mindless of their surroundings and the curious looks that were surreptitiously being cast in their direction. Nicholas’ expert fingers were teasing, 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,” he murmured next to her ear. 7

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“I have,” she gasped, then moaned softly when he buried two fingers in her wetness. “Please… Nicholas…” Nicholas’ fangs pierced her neck, and he felt the spasm of euphoria that shook her entire body as he drank. The soft sucking of his feeding was matched by the easy rhythm of his fingers as he kept her on the edge of ecstasy without tumbling her into the release she needed. The low, guttural growl of Callandra’s frustrated lust added to the sweetness of her blood and he kept her in place when she attempted to break his hold. Gradually, Nicholas drew back and turned her to face him. He brought sticky fingers to his lips, wiped away 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. She was shaking and her breaths were hoarse. Every tremor that passed through her was shared, and he laughed quietly as he sat at a table that was cloistered in darkness. She stood before him, expectant, and, he knew, aching. “What do you want, Callandra?” “You.” “You have me.” “Let’s leave here, Nicholas,” she requested, and managed to keep the plea from her voice. Not that it mattered, he knew precisely what she was thinking. “I want to go home.” “I thought you would enjoy this place, my darling,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “You disappoint me.” “It is not you who has been disappointed,” she snapped, her tone suddenly icy with sarcasm. “Have I disappointed you, dearest?” he mocked. 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 as he tugged at the heavy flow of her skirt and let it trail over his right hip. His hands rested on her thighs, hidden by the luxurious velvet of the skirt, inches 8

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from her tantalizing warmth. Callandra 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 and shaped to a point near the center of his back; tonight he had tinted the sculpted top with glittering silver. She cradled his head between her hands and gazed into eyes that continuously seemed to be shifting shades; his right eye, brown, was all the colors of earth, while the blue of his other eye encompassed the endless array of hues in a forbidden summer sky. Her thumbs brushed over the arched eyebrows, drifted downward to skim the slope of his nose, and finally came to rest on either side of the curving mouth that smiled up at her. “I want to make love with you, Nicholas,” she breathed, 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,” she confessed into his ear as she leaned closer to him. “We came here to hunt, darling,” he reminded her without real conviction. “I came here to meet my master,” she corrected. Nicholas smiled, the expression far more gentle than many would have thought him capable of, and he pulled her into a lingering, sensual kiss. He slipped several buttons free, released her from the caress, then lifted one soft, full breast to his mouth. His tongue circled the responsive nipple, flicked at the tip with light strokes before he finally closed his lips over the tempting flesh and began to suck intently. Callandra’s low moan of reawakened desire woke his own passion and he reluctantly eased away. He looked up into eyes that glowed with liquid fire in the darkness, and her fangs gleamed white and deadly when she smiled at him. Callandra glanced down, laughing quietly at the sight of her opened blouse and the twin globes of her breasts partially hidden by the gauzy fabric. Her jacket acted like a cape around her shoulders; only he was 9

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witness to her exposed body. She reached lower, caught at the snap of his dark jeans and tugged it open. When he made no objection, she slid the zipper down and eased the heavy material aside. Her chest heaved with barely contained excitement as she freed his erection from the confines of his pants, and her fingers lovingly caressed his rigid length. “We are in a room filled with people, Callandra,” he reminded her, thoroughly amused. The voices of the club patrons, the roar of the deafening music, the shouted conversations, all were whispers in the background. Callandra’s awareness didn’t extend past him and her insatiable desire for his touch. She ignored Nicholas’ words, and lifted her skirt as she rose slightly, then lowered herself onto him. The joining made her cry out softly, then she bit her bottom lip to prevent further sound from escaping her. Nicholas’ arms wrapped around her waist and he held her as she shuddered in his embrace. “I love you,” she murmured, and kissed his temple. She braced her feet on the floor and her body quickly found the rhythms of the club. The music permeated her, seemed to emanate from within her, and the multitude of mortal heartbeats became a single primal pulse that she matched with her hips as she rocked against him. Nicholas loosened his hold on her, moved his hands to her thrusting hips and created a faster rhythm to her motion. He heard the scream inside her mind an instant before he pulled her head to his neck. The cry of her orgasm was silenced as she bit into his throat with a savagery that caused him a fleeting moment of pain. He held her in a vise-like grip as she drank, knew had he given her her freedom she’d tumble them to the floor with the force of her hunger. When the first wave of maddened euphoria passed, he lifted her away, then pulled her down hard, and triggered his own climax as her body tightened again around him. His fangs sank into the soft mound of her left breast, near her heart, and her fingers brushed over his hair as she whispered words of love. 10

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Endless minutes later, Nicholas drew back and smiled up into her dazed eyes. He loved to see her this way, radiant with the sheer delirium of his possession. He owned Callandra as he had few others, and he never tired of her devotion. That she exulted in belonging to him, only added to his satisfaction. “Are we going to leave now?” she asked as she straightened and rose slightly. She shivered unconsciously when their bodies separated, and remained motionless as Nicholas zipped his jeans, then laughingly closed her blouse for her. She stepped back and sat across from him, her fingers entwined with his on the smooth surface of the table. “Is there nothing here that appeals to your hunger?” he taunted. “Perhaps your young companion, what was his name? Felix?” “I had thought you were the one who sent him to me.” She smiled. “He desires you even now,” Nicholas told her seriously. “He’s been watching you.” “And has he seen all he wanted to see?” she wondered, eyes alive with dark amusement. “I think not,” Nicholas purred, his humor equally lurid. “But he does know I have just had what he covets tonight.” “The boy’s a fool.” “He wants you.” “So he’s a fool with exquisite taste.” She smirked. “That makes him no less a fool.” “And am I a fool as well, dearest?” “No,” she whispered. “Never.” Nicholas’ smile was indulgent, and he cast a glance in the boy’s direction. “Let’s take him with us,” Nicholas said. He idly raised his hand and beckoned. Felix stepped forward and joined them moments later. The master vampire indicated the chair next to Callandra and she laughed quietly when Felix dropped into the seat and brushed a hand over hers. The 11

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gesture was meant to appear accidental but both she and her lover knew it was the boy’s attempt at subtle seductiveness. “Is this who you were waiting for?” Felix asked, his eyes locked on Callandra’s features. “This is Nicholas,” she said, smiling gently. “He is an old friend. It was his suggestion that brought me to this place tonight, Felix.” “Then I’m glad he recommended the Garden.” Felix laughed, and continued to ignore Nicholas’ presence. He was drunk, and it was making him both foolhardy and arrogant. Nicholas smirked at the impudence, then rose. “I’ll leave you to your new friend, Callandra,” he whispered next to her ear as he bent to kiss her cheek. ::I’ll be close by when you’re ready to leave.:: She shivered, shifted unconsciously in her chair, and nodded. He was gone from the club seconds later, and she felt the chill void created by his absence. “Would you like another drink?” Felix questioned as he ordered another beer from the waitress who had stopped at their table. “No,” she shook her head. “I have not finished the first one you so generously supplied.” He smiled and slid his chair closer to hers. “Do you always fuck your lovers in crowded nightclubs?” Felix asked with a polite smile. Callandra stared at him for a moment, measured the intent of his bluntness, then laughed. “Only Nicholas,” she remarked casually. “But Nicholas is an addiction I have suffered from for a very long time.” Felix raised a hand to smooth it over the flowing mane of her hair, then his hand slid beneath the long jacket and sought the soft curve of her breast. “I am not a whore to be groped and fondled by strangers, Felix,” Callandra growled quietly. Her fingers caught his wrist before his hand 12

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closed over her flesh. She permitted herself the pleasure of causing him a small amount of pain for his audacity. “I think you are, bitch.” The young man smiled and jerked his wrist free of her grasp. “I think it’s exactly what you came here for.” Anger rose, and with it came the first swift and searing pang of thirst. She cooled her ire and leaned forward, then smiled again when his look dropped to the revealing scoop of her neckline. “And you think you can give me what I want, young Felix?” she purred. Her gaze moved slowly over him, appreciating the silken length of rich chestnut hair that fell about his shoulders, and the equally dark brows that arched gracefully over intense eyes. He was a handsome boy, almost beautiful. Yet, totally unlike Nicholas, who was beauty incarnate to the woman who adored him. “Perhaps you’re right,” she nodded thoughtfully. Felix finished the last of his beer and grinned as he moved to sit in Nicholas’ vacant seat. He held his hands out to her, palms upward. Callandra laughed with dark mirth, and stood. She shook her head and took one of his proffered hands, then tugged him to his feet. “I think not, young one,” she told him. “You are not Nicholas, nor do I wish you to be.” Felix pulled her close to him and bent his head to hers. She returned his eager kiss casually, without real interest, and gently prodded him toward the exit. *

*

*

They said nothing as they left The Savage Garden. Callandra felt Nicholas nearby and she was all but twitching with aroused hunger as she caught the shift of his thoughts and understood the nature of this night’s hunt. Excited, she could concentrate on nothing but the fiercely compelling need to enjoy her lover’s game. Felix, beside her, smiled, thinking her shallow breaths and eager expression were for him. They’d walked only a few doors away from the nightclub when 13

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Callandra turned and yanked him into a darkened alley. She knew no one was near and she drew him farther into the pitch blackness. He hadn’t uttered a sound, but his eyes widened with surprise and interest as he waited to see what she intended to do. She shoved him back against the solid brick wall. Felix was startled by the force of her attack. The surprise grew when she leaned into him and her hand slithered across his chest, then dipped lower to massage the growing hardness between his thighs. The pressure of her hand grew steadily and he thrust his hips into the demanding caresses. When she began to nuzzle the side of his neck he laughed out loud. “You’ve certainly had a change of heart,” he taunted, with a weak attempt at cavalier dryness. “A change of heart?” She repeated the words with a new inflection, one that implied the concept was absurd. “I want you, Felix. And, I don’t intend to wait until you decide I can have you.” As if to emphasize her declaration, Callandra reached for the buckle of his belt and quickly released the clip. Seconds later her hand worked its way into the open front of his jeans. Her lips covered his and her tongue explored his mouth with the same fierce urgency as her fingers moving over his rigid length. “I don’t think I’ve ever been fucked in an alley,” Felix mused when she drew the soft velvet of her skirt up over her hips. His hand never made contact with her skin. It was caught in a grip of steel and he looked over her shoulder to see Nicholas smiling at him. “You shouldn’t toy with him, love,” Nicholas murmured softly, kissing her neck lightly. “He thinks you want him. Do you?” Callandra shook her head and smiled, the expression revealed elongated fangs and her eyes glowed fire. “Show him what you want, pet,” Nicholas suggested. She laughed and spun around to face Nicholas. Unmindful of her actions, she hauled him away from Felix and pushed him to the ground. Nicholas’ eyebrows rose and annoyance sparked to life within him. She 14

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felt the shift in emotion as she climbed across his thighs. She didn’t care. She pulled at his jeans until she had exposed only what was necessary to fulfill her immediate need, then she unbuttoned her blouse and leaned over him. Full breasts grazed the silk of his shirt and she shivered at the sensation of touching him and being touched by the cool fabric. Her hips moved against him, and she enjoyed the feel of the smooth length of his arousal pressed to her moist warmth. She moaned softly and rubbed herself harder against him. Nicholas’ hands closed over the enticing roundness of her breasts and he squeezed with enough pressure to elicit a tiny gasp of pain from his lover. She jerked away from him and tore open his shirt. Before he could anticipate her, Callandra impaled herself on him and began to ride him with an abandon that actually surprised him. Her features were tense with concentration as she trapped his hands with hers and their fingers entwined. Her back arched and her hips moved harder against him. Again, so swiftly he didn’t see the action coming, Callandra’s head descended and her fangs tore into his chest near his heart. Real pain rippled the length of Nicholas’s body. The shock of her assault thrilled and angered him—two might play this game of dominance, but it was Nicholas who would always win the contest of wills. Callandra had been allowed her moment, he decided with aberrant pleasure. He reversed their positions and trapped her beneath him. Nicholas tugged her head from his chest, ignored her whimper of objection, and yanked hard until the curve of her throat was invitingly exposed. He trapped her hands as he lowered his head to her neck. He bit with no more gentleness than she had and her body convulsed and tightened around him. A hissing growl of fury escaped her and he drove himself deeper into her with brutal force. “Nicholas…” He released her hands and they immediately slid down the length of his back and covered his buttocks. She pulled him harder against her 15

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writhing body. Long legs encircled his waist until he pulled back, disentangled her hold, and slid his arms under her knees. He leaned forward again and her spine curved to accommodate his shift. The palms of his hands were flat against the chilled asphalt they were oblivious to, and her fingernails dug into his wrists as he carelessly fucked her like the whore she’d become this night. Blood smeared her breasts, his blood, and Nicholas’ smile was filled with triumph when her head fell back and she choked back a strangled scream. Her body twisted in his grasp and her shudders pulled him over the edge into his own frenzied release. Minutes later, he let his arms slip from under her legs and rocked back on his heels as he pulled her up into his embrace. Callandra felt tears stream from her eyes as she nestled into the curve of his neck. Her entire body felt abused but sated in a way she hadn’t known she wanted. If she looked closely at her behavior, she would be horrified at what she’d done to him. Instead, she whispered her love and he soothed the shudders that still wracked her. They each felt the approach of the young mortals long before they were reached. Callandra eased away from her lover and laughed softly as their bodies separated at last. The sticky stream of their pleasure glistened against the pale ivory of her thighs and she ran a finger through the moisture before she slipped the wet tip between her lips and smiled wickedly at him. Nicholas took her hand and sucked her finger deep into his mouth— he felt the hunger stir to new life inside his lover. She was still aroused and her mood unpredictable. He was enjoying tremendously this new side of her nature. She withdrew and looked upward, past his shoulder. “Felix, I’d forgotten about you,” she whispered. “I noticed,” he said with a sneer. Despite Nicholas’ mental hold on him, he was still able to speak with free will, and he was clearly battling terror and lust with equal fury. Callandra smiled at the impudent tone. The alley that had 16

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previously been in complete darkness was now dimly lit by the increased glow of the streetlight near the entrance. She could see two other young men approaching them, the pair as clearly visible as if the sun shone on them. At the moment, perhaps more alluring, was the realization that they could see her, and Nicholas, and the unwitting Felix. She tossed back her hair and stood. Nicholas rose as well and she saw him pulling his jeans over his hips and closing them. She slid her skirt down from her waist and partially buttoned her blouse. The entire time, she held the transfixed stare of one of the nearing strangers who watched every tiny action she made. She could feel the heat of his lust even with several feet between them. “You must like it rough, baby,” the new arrival said with a laugh. “Does the sight of blood turn you on?” “Yes,” she breathed, eyes alive with macabre humor. “Maybe we should cut up your boyfriend and see how much you get off on that,” the second boy sneered. She didn’t acknowledge the words. Her eyes remained locked with the first of the two youths. She deliberately eased the buttons loose on her blouse again. Nicholas’ eyebrow rose. He knew she’d never let the boy touch her, but he’d never before seen her incite anyone in quite this manner. She was a deliciously amoral creature tonight, he thought with satisfaction. He kept Felix silent and hidden from the mortals’ vision, his hypnotic control of the newcomers so subtle they were unaware of the other presence in the alley with them. “You want me, don’t you?” Callandra purred quietly. “You want to fuck me in front of him, don’t you?” The first boy had already taken a step closer to her. His eyes were firmly fixed on the blood-stained beauty of her naked breasts. Amused by the situation, Nicholas permitted himself to enjoy the boy’s lusting thoughts. The kid wanted desperately to close his mouth over the erect 17

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points that tipped Callandra’s softly rounded curves. The ache in the boy’s groin became painful when her slender fingers teased him by flicking over her nipples and cupping her breasts as she fondled herself. Nicholas laughed wholeheartedly when the boy made a lunge for her. Callandra caught the young man’s wrist and spun him into the wall. Nicholas heard the distinct crack of bones when she jerked her victim’s head back and buried fangs hungrily in his neck as she pressed herself to the hapless boy’s back. The youth’s companion never made it to the mouth of the alley. Nicholas seized him, and minutes later two bodies littered the ground as the vampires smiled at each other. “I’ve never seen you like this, pet,” Nicholas whispered as she stepped over the boy’s body and into his arms. Callandra all but collapsed against her lover and she tried to control the blood lust that continued to dominate her mood. She hadn’t killed since the first night she’d awakened to her new life. She had sworn it would never happen again. Tonight, still consumed by the madness of Nicholas’ possession, she hadn’t wanted to stop until there was nothing left to take from the boy. Even now, her body craved her master’s touch. “We have to do something with them,” she eventually said. Nicholas laughed, the sound cold and mocking. “We already have, Callandra,” he murmured as he kissed her bared shoulder. He continued upward until his mouth closed over hers and she twisted fully into his embrace. Her soft body molded to his and she sighed quietly as she returned the oral caress with the first sign of her usual gentleness. “I think this time we will enjoy ourselves at home,” Nicholas promised when he drew back and stared into her wide, dark eyes. “Take our guest,” he laughed, indicating Felix. “I’ll join you very soon. He won’t remember what he’s seen here.” 18

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“Your home is lovely,” Felix said as he strolled around the antiques and leather-covered furniture that filled the room she’d led him to. The estate was huge, and he wondered, idly, how many rooms were actually in the place. And, if Nicholas occupied one of them now. “This room is one of my favorite places,” she told him with sincere enthusiasm. The fire had been lit, and she smiled at the play of dancing flames that cast macabre shadows over the cozy warmth of the library. “Why?” Felix asked when he accepted a drink from her. “You’re not having one?” he inquired when she remained empty handed. “I prefer to drink the memories this place holds,” she murmured quietly. Knowing he watched every movement she made, Callandra walked slowly to the fireplace. In the flickering light she began to peel away the rich layers of her clothing, her entire manner seemingly oblivious to the ravenous gaze of the young man who stared at her. She tossed the last piece of her outfit onto the sofa and turned to smile at Felix. Her hands smoothed over her hips and glided upward to cup her breasts. She toyed with the erect and sensitive points of her nipples as she dropped to her knees. “I thought you wanted me, Felix,” she said with a breathless sigh. “You’re doing fine without me,” he observed, his voice hoarse with excitement. He turned one of the chairs to face her and sat, drink clutched in hands that trembled uncontrollably. Callandra’s smile softened further and she spread her thighs, the light of the flames turning the dark hair there to enticing shadow. She shook her head and her waist-length mane was tossed back so he could see her clearly. Her hands moved between her parted thighs and she shivered as she delicately probed her already aroused body. “Why don’t you do this for me, Felix?” she suggested with a breathy moan. She closed her eyes and felt the vampire wake, her fingers moved more deftly and she screamed Nicholas’ name silently. Through the pounding of her thirst, she heard Felix hauling at his 19

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clothes as he tried to remove them too quickly. Two pairs of hands touched her at once. Callandra’s eyes snapped open and she grinned down at Felix as she slammed him back to the floor. She straddled his thighs, and looked down at him. He was fully aroused and the lust in his eyes was unmistakable. Beneath it, equally clear, was fear. She felt the rush of euphoric power engulf her. Her hair was lifted off her shoulders and she shivered at the light touch of Nicholas’ lips on her neck. He hugged her waist and she snuggled back against him. “Do you want to fuck him, darling?” “I want you,” she whispered. “Then you shall have me,” he murmured. “Quench your thirst, Callandra, while I sate your hunger.” Nicholas’ will ensnared the terrified boy and he yanked Felix up off the floor until he was sitting before them. Felix screamed as Callandra’s fangs sank into his throat. For an instant, as he died, he heard a louder scream inside his head. It was the voice of Callandra’s ecstasy as Nicholas took possession of her…

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DENYSE M. BRIDGER Denysé is a native of Atlantic Canada, born in the country’s Easternmost province, Newfoundland, and raised in Nova Scotia. A lifelong dreamer, she began writing at an early age and can’t recall a time when she wasn’t creating in some artistic form. “My first published story was, oddly enough, a media based tale written for the TV series Miami Vice, first published in 1986. Up until that time I had never heard of fanzines and fandom. It’s proven to be an immensely valuable training ground for professional writing in that it teaches discipline and attention to detail. There’s no tougher critic than a fan who knows their show or movie down to the tiniest nuance, and they’re not shy about telling you when you’ve missed the mark!” An active interest in the American West has been a lifetime obsession, too. Cowboys have been a love-affair that began at the tender age of three, and eventually expanded to encompass an equally timeless passion for pirates, Greek Gods, and Ancient Egypt. The other side of the Old West intrigue is an affinity for Victorian England, particularly the 1885-1895 part of the century. The American Civil War has also been a source of avid interest. “How can anyone not be moved by the tragedy that defines that conflict? There are endless stories of courage and honor, and each man and woman who lived through America’s greatest turmoil was left scarred in some way. Those who rose above their losses and went on with the stoicism and utter bravery of eternal legends really have to inspire and humble anyone who reads about them.” At this point in her career, Denysé has had published in the vicinity of 400 stories and novellas, in almost any genre you can name. “The only

thing I haven’t tried yet is hard-core science fiction, and horror. Since I don’t consider vampires as I write them to be the fodder of horror, I classify those stories as Dark Fantasy.” Many of her vampire stories have appeared in Margaret L. Carter’s anthology, The Vampire’s Crypt, and Night To Dawn, published and edited by Dawn Callahan. Her poetry has been published internationally. Denysé has also been the recipient of numerous awards, most notably the Fan Quality Award, which is given annually for excellence in fan fictions based on film and television. As of May 2004, there are four awards in her collection, and no less than a dozen nominations to her credit. What’s next on the agenda? “I hope many more stories for AQP. A home for my ‘labor of love’ Greek fantasy novel. And more time to get all the ideas in my head down onto the written page…” *

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Don’t miss A Safer Haven, by Denyse M. Bridger, available now from Amber Quill Press, LLC When the stagecoach carrying Federal Marshal Chris McQuade is the target of an attempted robbery, the handsome marshal is left alone with a woman he’s been attracted to from the start of the long journey from St. Louis to Wind River, WY. It isn’t until they’re forced to go on alone together that he realizes he’s falling in love with the wife of the man he’s been sent to bring to justice. Much to McQuade’s surprise, Elizabeth Davis has fallen in love, too, and her husband is out for revenge after witnessing a much-too-intimate encounter between his enemy and his wife…

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