His hands curled around her hips and yanked her tight against him, the aroused length of his cock shoved between her legs. Thick, hard. She arched her hips, loving that pressure even as she drank from him.
Sex and blood.
“More, Dee, take more!”
Helpless, she did.
His fingers fumbled with the button of her jeans. He jerked the fly open, managed to push his fingers between them and shove down her jeans.
Heat pooled in her sex, and a hungry, vicious need ripped away her reason as she fed from him. Fed, for the first time on a living being.
Addiction.
Power.
Lust.
This was what Pak had warned her about. This was why she’d given Zane kill orders. Dee couldn’t pull back. She wanted her teeth in Simon’s throat and she wanted his cock driving into her.
What he’d done to her, who he was—didn’t matter. She needed, so badly.
Take.
More.
Mine.
Her body began to heat, from the inside out, and a rush of power and euphoria swept through her. She could have anything. Do anything. The world was hers. There was no stopping her. She could take and take and—
Her hands joined his and they jerked her jeans and panties down even as she kicked off her shoes. But Dee didn’t free his throat. No, there was no way she’d stop drinking that wonderfully sweet blood.
His zipper hissed down. Her legs widened. The touch of his bare cock had her jolting, but not stopping. No, not stopping.
She was undead. No protection required. No diseases. No pregnancies.
Just need.
The need that had her sex slick when she should have been horrified. The need that had her nipples tight and her back arching, the need that—
Simon thrust into her and she slammed her hips down on him at the same moment.
“Dee!”
Shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be. She didn’t trust him. Didn’t even like him.
But the vampire didn’t care.
Blood and sex. A vampire’s wet dream.
Their bodies strained together. His cock was long and thick and every frantic move of his hips had him sliding deeper inside. She was wet, more than ready, and he filled every inch of her core.
Her mouth tightened on him, fangs in deep.
He drove harder, shoving up with his hips, and Dee took every straining inch of his shaft and wanted more.
His fingers thrummed her clit.
Her knees tightened around him. She pushed down harder, wanting to take, take.
She exploded around him as her sex contracted on a wave of pure pleasure that had her trembling, quivering, coming with the best orgasm she’d—
Simon bucked beneath her and climaxed, jetting out the hot splash of his release deep inside of her.
This time, he was the one who screamed. No, more like a roar.
Her name.
Her mouth gentled on his neck. The driving rush of bloodlust began to ease and the haze of red cleared from her mind.
What have I done?
Oh, Christ, what had she just done? She hadn’t come to screw him. Not part of her plan. She’d come to find out what he knew about the Born and to make him pay for changing her.
Two bodies on the floor. Man. Woman. Older. Graying hair and sightless eyes. Blood around them, oozing from their torn necks.
Her hands clamped on Simon’s shoulders. Her claws dug deep.
Simon, running to them, falling to the floor, slipping in their blood.
Dee tried to lift her head. This was wrong. She shouldn’t be seeing—
“Told you there was no choice, Chase. You’re ours now.” A tall, pale vampire. Beautiful and perfect. Laughing as he stared at the dead bodies, blood dripping from his mouth.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” Simon’s bellow of fury.
Simon.
His memories. His mind. His blood.
What was she doing?
Linking. The way of the vampire.
Dee jerked her mouth away from his throat. She scrambled away, shaking, the taste of him still in her mouth, on her tongue, and her sex quivering for more. Dee shoved back her hair and she stared at him.
What have I done?
No, no—what have I become?
Blood and sex.
More.
He smiled at her, a sad, painful sight, and said, “Welcome to my world.”
Chapter 9
“Sandra Dee Daniels rose.”
The words fell into the silence of the room. The Born Master didn’t glance up, he kept his teeth buried in the neck of his prey and her blood flowed over his tongue.
One minute stretched to five. Then ten.
The prey stopped moving. No more whimpers. No more tears.
He kept feeding. Kept drinking. Until nothing was left.
Only a shell.
His head rose and he licked his lips. “I’ll need another.” The hunger was never satiated for him. Never.
His glance drifted back to the woman. Pale limbs. Limp neck. Hair a long, straight black.
Death had been kind to her. No fear showed on her face. Her eyes had closed, and she almost looked like she might just be sleeping.