She was dying.
Zsadist told her otherwise. But, fuck.. what did he know.
She knew she was dying. Contorting on the bed, fists grabbing on to the sheets as pain lanced inside her every molecule. Hot seering
bone crushing pain. Victoria dived down deep inside herself, the world got locked out, the agony all up in her face grabbing the
limelight.
Attention hogging little bastard.
Her Z's words drumming in her ears from earlier, telling her it was going to be okay. She called bullshit. Or she would, when she was
propelled into the afterlife, no doubt screaming her lungs out as she bounced into the holy pearly gates. would feel her fury.
She knew it. ShitShiiiiiit it hurt so bad. She foraged for his hand, knew he was there. Warm fingers grasped around hers, squeezed.
While she fought the blackness willing her to fall under its spell.
This wasn't supposed to happen. She was a human. Not a vampire. And certainly not a transitioning vampire. The inner vice grip on
her heart would beg to differ.
She'd woken that morning. Lethargic, cold, clammy and with the killer of all headaches. Flu she'd told her male. And he'd got all kinds
of still and that look in his hooded eyes that told her shit was about to go down. And then in his deep timber voice he'd explained she
was becoming one of his kind. For twenty five years the Brotherhood had watched over her. Waiting. Standing by a death bed promise
to a former family doggen to help her through this transition.
And he was telling her this now. NOW! Her cry crawled up her throat and almost broke her in two.
She'd have words with her hellren. Big. fucking. words.
After she got through dying that is.
"Fuck. Me. Hard"
The day Z had long dreaded was here. He'd fought the thoughts of what he knew was to come. Dear Virgin, his female in full blown
transition.
A mask of worry and torture twisted Zsadist's features. He was a bonded male. She was his world. She made the earth spin on its axis
and even though it made him a fucking nancy, Z knew he didn't want to breathe without her. If he could stop it he would..
Stop the gnawing hunger that would claw through her dessicated veins..saying a low rushed prayer in the Old Language. He would see
her through this…or die in the attempt..
She was his female. She belonged to him in all the ways that counted. Z had vowed to the Scribe Virgin and every other fucking deity
under sun and sky that he would protect her. She would live through this. The alternative was unthinkable..
Along the hall of statues, locked in the King's study, Wrath had his head buried in Beth's neck drinking in her soft scent and anxious
waves emanating from her skin, fangs dragging slowly across her vein, her purrs ringing out. Both of them remembering her own
transition several years ago.
"Z's female will make it through, my leelan" He said it to assuage the smell of Beth's worry. He didn't need sight to know it was all
over her lovely face. He got his hands nicely busy, palmed her ass and pulled her down onto his lap.
She laughed but wriggled herself comfortable and hid her fingers in his ink black mane of hair. "Wrath! We have work to finish"
His smirk was all leer. "I got something you can work on, Leelan" The bulge he raised with his hips pressing between her legs met
with his growl.
And hell if Beth didn't get right to work grinding down over his leathers. The scrolls would wait. Many hours.
Up in his penthouse in the Commodore…the air thick and cloying around Rehvenge..
Stroking thick fingers over the edge of the cane, as if stroking her…
He had watched her nipples peak and harden underneath the thin fabric of her uniform…indecent, raw, lingering thoughts of the
encounter with the unnamed female ran through Rehv's frontal lobe like a movie. Fangs digging into the tender skin of his lip, tendrils
of erotic sweat ran over his skin…
He'd let the dopamine fog lift…Rehv's bad side relished in it….something stirred down below…
He allowed it..
Allowed himself to feel…
Celibacy didn't look good on Qhuinn. He was gaunt, drawn. He looked like he'd been put through the ringer, lost a fight to 3 lessers
with their old granny perfume and came out the other side with a hangover and a headache the size of Texas.
The Herradura was permastuck to Qhuinn's hand. Jacking up the waistband of his leathers and taking a swig, once, twice and a third
time for the road. He'd decided enough was enough.
Blay was having his fun with Saxton the wonder slut.
It was high time Qhuinn had his. He would find a female with waist length red hair and lips he wanted to see wrapped around his
cock..sucking until he screamed.
Fuck it. Maybe a male too for good measure. With one last look in the mirror he made his shitkickers move..
Out of the room…out of the mansion and into the night.
Weeks, months, centuries. The pain eased And Victoria's brain came back online in a jumbled rush. Too loud. Something was too loud.
She scrunched her face grimacing listening to the numatic whirling of the AC. She didn't dare move. The bed beneath her felt hard and
warm. Skin warm. She peeled open an eye and… HOLY SHIT. Her blurred world before she pushed on her glasses suddenly bloomed
in HD living color.
She decided one thing right in that second of being alive again. Heaven oddly looked like their mated bedroom. Smelled like it too. Her
second eye joined the game and opened..
And she realized she was laid out on Zsadist. She'd made it through? or dragged him along for the heavenly ride. Her skin hurt, tight
and sensitive, as If it had been stretched, but she still nuzzled his chest, so happy to see him, yet avoiding looking down at herself. She
was afraid she'd see some giant vampire body. She'd seen how the pre-trans had gone through their transitions and how huge they
came out at the other end. Oh god. She was gonna have to wear size 14 shoes.
"Nallum.." Throat dry and raw "Am I gigantuous?" She hissed her S's. What the… Her tongue poked around her mouth and found
pointy teeth. Woaaaaah. She'd got herself a set of fangs. Fangs!
What was a bastard to do when all enemies lay dead at his feet and his lady scythe wanted more action. Xcor, scrubbed at his ugly
mug and re-sheathed his weapon onto his back, stepping through the sludge of lesser blood and came up against a million watt bright
light that blinded him. Fucking hell in the fade. His hand foraged for the scythe ready to take on whatever was approaching down the
alleyway on Tenth. And found the one thing he relied on. The only thing he relied on, taken from him as easy as if he'd handed it over
docilely.
Xcor's growl was all menace. All dark.
The light dimmed and he focused on the male in front of him. Metal adourning his face and hair the color of night and the sun all mixed
together.
Cocksucker was holding his lady scythe, twirling it like a baton. He would die this night.
Mayhap he'd slice him slowly first.
"Not fond of the dying, big man, It'd cut into my O time, and today is Tuesday, who's your baby daddy day on Maury" He spoke, and
a shit eating grin spread on Lassiters face. "We need to talk….Seems you're my next good deed of the century.."
Rehvenge's vision went to blood red. He shuddered underneath the sable….not from cold. He was hard.
He was hard as steel. Thick, and more than ready. The lingering thoughts had him envisioning the female's legs over his
shoulders….Her scent was exquisite….Her skin was soft as the finest silk and the color of alabaster.
A soft, low growl came up Rehv's throat. Lips trembling with need and the flush of erotic anticipation….Fingers touching his lips to
steady the shaking before the phone rang..
FUCK. It was his second in command. Rehv was due at the club. Tonight was the night he went over the books…collected on unpaid
debts…..palming his cane and standing up slowly allowing himself one last thought of those eyes…the color of toffee, before
dematerializing.
Z's head spun. He could feel the rotation of the earth. His female had fed….and fed again…then fucking fed again for good measure.
Zsadist's neck was savaged, chewed raw but he had the grin of a male who'd been put to good use.
Voice thick with gravel. "You are beautiful and perfectly proportioned nalla. You made it. I love you"
Drawing on some nylon pants and pulling himself vertical. "You need food, beautiful. I will feed you well" The thought made a low
rumbled growl leave his throat. She was alive. Eternity stretched in front of them. The promise of tomorrow was a reality.
His lips were raw and bruised from overuse. Qhuinn had found what he was looking for and then some. The female's hair was auburn
and fell well past the curve of her luscious ass. He'd pulled it, had it wrapped around his cock and lost himself in her completely. The
small private room where the Reverend allowed them to conduct their private biz was heady with the scent of sex and blood.
The male was on his knees working Qhuinn. He watched his mouth as he took him in from base to tip. His lips and tongue were made
for sin. The female was not to be outdone. Her hand had slipped low and disappeared underneath her mini skirt. Her moans told the
story. She opened her mouth and came closer. Her tongue and lips found Qhuinn's…It seems they weren't done.
Round 3..
"What say we grab some food, big man. You don't look like a Golden Arches kinda guy" The male in front of Xcor was begging for his
spinal cord to be ripped from his body. Fangs bared, lethal spikes as he stalked forward, boots hitting the puddles of rain gathered on
the ground.
"KFC. Definitely a KFC guy" Lassiter slapped Xcor on the back, grinning the fool grin once more and handed over the scythe even
before the bastard leader could grab onto his throat and tear it out.
"I am your death. Not a KFC male. Whatever that may be" And what happened next, Xcor had no notion of how or why. His stance
for the fight dropped, he re-sheathed his weapon and let the male direct him down the alleyway and onto Tenth. As if a balloon had
rendered all its air, Xcor's anger drained from him.
"That's right. See, doesn't that feel better" Lassiter's swagger was all self assured, like he didn't have a care in the world about who he
was facing or the mortal peril he was putting himself in. No. The angel had his shit handled just right.
He'd earn himself a motherfucking halo for this gig.
Her breath whooshed out and she let her eyes scan down herself, relieved to see the same body she'd had this morning. Her senses
were heightened. Damn, so heightened, she leaned forward and took a deep sniff of his scent.
Food. Food. She couldn't think of eating food when her male smelled so good. And then she saw his inked throat and cursed aloud with
her slight lisp again. She'd fed from him. With her fangs.
A wave of heat crawled up her neck to her face, fingertips touching all those bite wounds softly. She should say sorry.
The blaze of his Citrine eyes looking at her, watching her touch him, told her he'd want no apology. Oh yeah, her male had liked that.
Victoria licked her dry lips and tasted him there. She met his mouth, kissing up over his scarred face.
"God. I love you, Nallum. Thank you for helping me. " She moved gingerly across the bed to swing legs to the floor. She needed to see
the spiked puppies in her mouth.
Rehvenge sent out mental feelers over the swaying bodies on the dance floor. Some were foggy with the haze of ecstasy. Their teeth
chattering, skin tingling and hyper sensitive.
He fed on all the array of sins, a veritable mental feast. His own skin tingled. He let the bad side overcome him this fine evening. The
thoughts of the female made Rehv quite unstable. He feared for the one he chose to sate the wild desires this night. A pair of blue eyes
met his own. Rehv's hand stroked the head of the cane…simulating, pretending as he motioned to one of the highly trained staff to
send over a double shot of Patron to his new friend. He feared they would become more than well acquainted before dawn.
Stumbling in, shitkickers stomping over the multicolored mosaic. Qhuinn had allowed himself the freedom of indulging every sexual
whim. He was him again. A huge satisfied grin was on his face as he sensed a familiar presence…
"well fuck me sideways…. What's doing, cousin?"
Saxton the great was GQ smooth as ever. His voice was like a cold drink of water on a Summer's day which naturally made Qhuinn
want to connect his fist to that perfect face and wipe the smug sarcastic grin off it.
"You are looking well this evening, cousin"
Qhuinn couldn't help it. The corner of his lip lifted up in a sneer even as he fought to keep a neutral expression on his face and his fist
curled, nodding slowly and turning to jog the fuck out of there before he commited a crime of passion. Nothing had changed. No matter
what depraved, lascivious acts his body had performed tonight.
He still loved Blay. Motherfuck….
Qhuinn had never thought to question his sexuality. He was a freak of nature and had the mismatched eyes to prove it. He fucked
indiscriminately. He was an equal opportunity lover. And simply unleashed his energy on willing bodies, be they soft curvaceous
females or hard muscled males. It made no difference…
Only one face came to mind at the end of it all…
The look on his female's face was the stuff of the heavens. Motherfuckers should write poems and sonnets about her and shit. If Z
thought she was beautiful before….now she was a Goddamn bombshell right off the Victoria's Secret catalog. She moved like a cat, all
lethal quiet power and those fangs…just looking at them made the thing between his legs hard as a baseball bat..
Maybe the food could fucking wait. Even though the exhaustion was trying to pull him down he was more than ready to serve his
female.
Eyes bright Citrine and hooded, raking a hand over his newly shaved skull trim, voice an erotic drawl.
"What say we give your new self a test run, nalla?"
Zsadist would take her while her fangs were buried deep in his neck. He'd feed his Victoria well. Let her take as much as she wanted.
They would now sustain each other. The thought made a deep rolling growl surge from Z's chest as he reached out and ran a finger
along the new pearl white canines.
Lassiter, as the band of bastard's leader now knew him to be called dogged his every step. Yet no one seemed to see him but Xcor. He
knew he had the madness then. Aye. He'd seen it many times in the Old Country. He couldn't let his soliders suspect. Show no
weakness. The Bloodletter if nothing else taught him that.
The days passed and the glowing male followed wherever Xcor went. Out in the battlefield slaughtering thine enemy. Fucking and
feeding with Throe.
Anger bled in hot rivets inside Xcor. Wanting to shred the male, to be rid of the shadow he had picked up and didn't know why.
Salvation. Redemption. Pah. He wanted no such things from him. He would palm his blade, or use bare hands to kill him.
But the moment of approach, the desire for the kill, for the blood to run paving the floor in crimson and staining his hands evaporated
and Lassiter's grin would widen all the more.
Pissing Xcor off.
"We gotta get a tv" Lassiters feet were up on the table across the room from his new charge, he played idly with his brow piercing.
"I'm missing all my shows, dude! Fuck. I don't even know Oprah's book read for this month!"
Xcor looked on, his face drawn into that perminent scowl of ugliness, his deformed lip sneered wishing the crazy apparition would
leave. He had work to do. Wrath was still on the throne.
He had no time for Plasma's or Jersey shore or any other madness the male spewed out with. He had a fucking King to kill and a
throne to make his own.
He watched Lassiter's eyes get real serious. All of his animated talking ceased as if he'd been inside the warrior's head and disagreed.
Finally something that worked in his favor. Xcor smirked, sat back against the wall and began decapitating the blind king in his mind.
Wrath prowled around their mated chambers. His mood as dark as his vision. Naked save for the black wraparounds masking the pale
green of his blind eyes. That cocksucking angel's betrayal cozying up to the bastards made the blood in his veins boil over. The
temperature dropped around him mulling over the intel he'd gotten from Rehvenge. He had no reason to mistrust what the reverend
had seen. He was trustworthy…. As far as a symphath could be trusted.
The King of the vampires turned his head towards the weapons closet he still kept, comtemplating strapping on daggers and his stars,
hunting down the POS angel he'd let into their home and ripping the tongue from his head.
He didn't need eyes to sniff out the glowing traitor.
George whined down at his feet as if telling him it was a motherfucking bad idea as Wrath took a step towards where the weaponery
was housed..
When a boulder of flamed heat curled up his legs, thick cloying heat making him stumble, his dick punched out from his hips, hardened
thick and long hitting his abs and his hearing picked up the sound of distress coming from the bathroom "LEELAN!"
The urgency in his steps grew, crashing open the door, the splinter of wood all too apparent, the smell of Beth's emotions drowning
him. Arousal growing, his fangs rushed down into his mouth dragging his lower lip, the look of sheer desire and fear etched on the
King's face. His shellan's needing time had come.
Fuuuuuuuck.
"Hurts, Wrath.."
"Shh my leelan. Got you, feel me?" He lifted her right from the tub dripping and rigid in his arms with the pain, his dick got in on the
action and throbbed wanting to ease his female. With a growl that boiled up from his chest, Wrath, son of Wrath mated hellren to Beth
daughter of Darius, laid his female upon their mated bed, pinning her under him and knew what was to be done. What had to be done
to ease the suffering writhing through his shellan. A cold sweat rolled down Wrath's spine, fangs biting into his lip until he tasted the
metallic of his own blood. The fear of siring a young who could take Beth from him in childbirth was something he couldn't focus on
right now. His leelan was the beating in his chest, She was the end and beginning of everything for him.
He palmed his length, grunted and shoved up inside Beth.
His roar rang clear out around the mansion.
Elsewhere in the Brotherhood mansion, the wave of the needing took a hold of anyone in his path. Doors slammed, groans and grunts
of the males could be heard, whimpers of their females easing what they knew would take hours and hours to sate..
And their ever faithful doggen Fritz Perlmutter scurried down to his kitchen happy as a clam, ever eager to do his duty for the
household.
At this moment Wrath son of Wrath's destiny was in his hands. The future was now. That fickle bitch destiny and her boyfriend fate
had come knocking…claws out. Would he play or would he run? Only he knew…