He sat on the couch below the lamp he’d left burning and waved for her to join him. Polero scowled as she sat on the opposite end. “You speak Latin?” he asked pointedly.

  She shook her head, easing next to his body. Denise took the book from his hands, gasping at the illumination. Polero swallowed a laugh. He’d chosen this volume purposefully. Long ago, Polero had designed this seduction piece for nights like this. Her breathing was ragged as she surveyed the illumination of two beasts sharing a woman while they fed from her, the victim’s face a study in exquisite pleasure.

  Polero remembered the night in question well. Every illumination in the book was a recreation of some sensual pleasure in the years since he’d abandoned the church to follow the more powerful gods of the beasts. Having the trappings of his former life around him served only two purposes. It was once a comfort, and it put humans at ease to associate him with the position he once believed in.

  “They’re—” Denise’s eyes went wide in understanding. He’s cracked. “But that’s not—”

  “Real? I assure you, the beasts are very real. What you see there is a new beast awakening after his change.”

  “A what?”

  “A turned. A beast made by one of the elders, a master. Some of the elders would just fuck the new recruit while he fed, but that is not as striking a picture as them sharing the turned’s first victim.” And, Jörg is not like other elders.

  Polero hardened further at the memory of taking Jörg’s blood, Polero’s beast demanding other pleasures.

  Jörg ordered him to close his feeding site, looking to Polero’s engorged member in something resembling pity and ordering him not to make a move. It was maddening, feeling the burn to climax and not having the leave of his master to seek it. For a long moment, Polero believed it was some sort of punishment Jörg was handing down, though he couldn’t think clearly enough to reason why Jörg would want to punish him that night.

  Polero watched as Jörg drew the woman between them, the elder’s hands teasing the woman sexually as he began to take her blood. The woman cried out in ecstasy as Jörg pushed his cock into the depths of her ass.

  Polero’s fangs itched to taste the blood he smelled. He stroked his cock, needing to taste other depths. Perhaps Jörg would give the woman to Polero when he tired of her, but the waiting would drive him mad, seeing and smelling their blood and sex.

  Jörg closed his feeding site and met Polero’s eyes. “Join me,” he invited. “Feed your beast, but feed it slowly. Feed it gently.”

  From that day to this, Polero had never felt anything as sublime as sharing that woman with Jörg: kissing her as they thrust inside her, sharing her blood, taking her body in every conceivable combination that night. He and Jörg had shared women on many occasions, but there was something unforgettable in that first time, a dark rush of power, the fellowship of blood before it became jaded and forgotten as every other kind emotion had been.

  Polero forced his mind back to the subject at hand.

  Denise flipped the page, swallowing hard at the illumination of him taking a woman over a ship’s railing.

  Ah, yes. The captain’s mistress had been luscious and willing. The captain had been a bought human. He had her himself after Polero was done with her, though for her comfort, she had no memory of anyone but her lover.

  Polero forced his fangs back as Denise’s body prepared for him. She turned another page.

  The minister’s daughter he’d deflowered, his tongue taunting her spasming body as he drank from her engorged tissues.

  She bit her lower lip, moving her thighs against each other restlessly. Denise turned another page, her breath hitching at the next scene.

  Oh yes. She likes that. Polero smiled, morphing his member larger as he had that night.

  She’d been a streetwalker he’d picked up for his amusement. Polero had enjoyed watching her mouth spread wide around his increased size.

  “No one is that big,” Denise whispered.

  Polero chuckled. “Really?” he drawled.

  Denise glanced at his face then panned her eyes down to his lap. She darkened and looked at the book again, running a hand though her hair nervously. He was a priest? What a waste! “These beasts,” she choked out. “Vampires— Tell me about them. What does all of this say? Besides their love for screwing anything that moves, of course.”

  She was sweating, shaking. Her body needed completion almost as much as his own did, but she directed him back to the subject at hand. Self-preservation. She’s afraid to take what she wants.

  He reached across her body, pointing to the text. Denise’s eyes strayed to the inked drawing often. Polero snuggled closer to her as he eased his fingertip across the page.

  “It talks about the limitations of the beasts, the ways to kill them.”

  “How?” she asked urgently.

  “There are icons.”

  “Crosses? Holy water?”

  Polero laughed harshly. “No. I believed the old stories, too. Nothing so mundane works against them. I learned that the hard way.”

  Denise searched her eyes over him frantically, locking on the marks Jörg left on him when Polero entered into service with him. She touched the marks, rising to her knees. Her breath was hot on his skin. “Do you remember this?”

  “Yes.” Jörg wanted him to remember every searing second of that feeding without the pleasure he typically gave his bought humans. It was a punishment, a warning of what cruelty he was capable of if Polero ever crossed him again.

  “Why did they leave your memory? That is how they’re taking away memories. Right?” She touched the marks gently, as if he would break.

  “Yes. The beasts reorder or blank memories to hide their existence.” He cupped her hip. “I imagine the one who did this was playing with me. I was a priest, after all.”

  “You tried to use the usual means to stop a vampire?”

  “He walked into my church, killed a bishop, and nearly killed me. Nothing worked against him. It was years later when I found these texts, when I learned that my fellow clerics knew much more than they let on.” Ah, Jonrie. Working for the enemy all that time.

  “You confronted them?”

  Polero rubbed her lower back. “Yes. It’s amazing the things the church doesn’t admit to.”

  “So, you set out to do this on your own?” she asked in awe.

  “Armed with some texts I liberated from the church and a few loyal men with the same beliefs.”

  “Your brother?” Denise asked, sitting down and meeting his eyes.

  “Yes. Jörg and I have always been in this together.” Polero smiled at that. Little comfort that is. I cannot even find comfort in our connection. I cannot find comfort in anything but what Denise can offer.

  “Why?” she mused, her mind abruptly elsewhere, on a track and moving so fast, Polero had trouble following her.

  “Why what?” He ran his hands further up her back, easing the tension in her muscles.

  Denise sighed.

  So typical. My past always makes them feel so safe.

  “Why is the vampire doing this? I mean, he has to eat, but it’s more than that. He wants these victims found. What is his reason?”

  “It’s a game,” he confided.

  “A game? What kind of game?”

  “Look at it from the culprit’s mindset. This brings attention the pursuer does not want or need.” At a time when he needs the distraction least. “It flaunts the ability of anyone to stop him. It sends pursuers scrambling to end it.”

  She nodded. “He’s amusing himself.”

  Not yet. “They live to appease their hungers and still their longings. They want endlessly.”

  “Blood,” she mused.

  Polero picked up the book from where she dropped it between them and flipped another page, turning it for her to see. “And other pleasures.”

  Denise looked at the book for a long moment, barely breathing in her excitement. She blushed deeply.

  “What is it?” he asked, though Polero knew well enough that she wanted him desperately. She’d resigned herself to the fact that she could never tell her co-workers about all of this. What Denise learned now was for her own avid thirst for knowledge.

  “W-who wrote and illustrated this book?” she stammered.

  “Priests,” he offered in half-truth. “Working from the actual accounts of copulation of beasts with human women.”

  “They’re drawn— They all seem to be enjoying themselves.”

  “That surprises you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she practically shouted. “They— And they drink blood, and—”

  He smiled at her unsettled mind. “Ah. I see. The beasts feed off of emotion almost as much as they feed off of blood. They don’t feel kind emotions of their own.”

  “They want to make the woman happy to experience the rush of her emotions?”

  “Absolutely.”

  And much more. The beast demands satisfaction sexually while it feeds, satisfaction for the beast. Any powerful emotions satisfy the beast. A woman’s terror in rape is enough. The stillness— The peace in feeling her pleasure is the for the tattered remains of the man not for the beast. One who forgets the pleasure and peace to be had for the man should be exterminated. Jörg taught Polero that on the night he turned.

  Denise fingered the illumination, staring at it again. “There was no sign of sexual assault,” she noted.

  Polero grimaced. “You’re not listening. It wouldn’t be an assault.”

  “You’re saying the women willingly screwed a beast?”

  “If you want a man badly enough, don’t you?” he prodded.

  She darkened further and cleared her throat. “How would he convince them so quickly?”

  He smiled. “A being that reads minds? He knows exactly how to touch her, exactly what to say to her.”

  “It can’t be that easy.”

  Polero rolled his eyes at that. It wasn’t the easiest thing Jörg had ever charged him with doing. “He picks his victims carefully.” He dragged a finger up her arm. Yes, Polero had chosen Denise very carefully.

  “And the man?” she asked slowly.

  “He’s not into men. That was a simple feeding.”

  “Why vary the typical plan?”

  He scowled. “Irritation. Pure and simple. Days without finding a suitable woman. The beast got hungry.”

  She nodded and leaned back, flipping through the book. Polero counted the pages, mentally picturing each illumination as she went, gauging its effect on her. Gods, but her scent was driving him mad.

  “What is it like?” she asked suddenly.

  “Like?” Polero traced the outer seam of her jeans from knee to hip.

  “Tracking them. Dodging them.”

  “Lonely.” Loneliness wasn’t a kind emotion. Loneliness was something Polero felt every day of his life.

  Denise turned the page again, and Polero bit back a chuckle. The illumination was so close to their current situation that Polero knew she would be affected. Her perusal of the book was giving him a very clear picture of what would excite her.

  “You don’t interact with other people much,” she guessed. “Not even your brother.”

  “He’s mourning,” Polero excused Jörg immediately. Until he claimed his mate, Jörg would always mourn them. No. He mourns the lost souls even as he revels in the one he holds. There is no peace for Jörg.

  “You’ve never married?”

  “No. I have never been blessed with something so precious,” he decided bitterly. From priest to bought human to damned beast, there was never an appropriate time to marry.

  Her hand touched his thigh and lingered, brushing over the muscles, taut in his restraint. She started to pull back, but Polero covered her hand with his. Denise met his eyes and moved her hand beneath the cover of his, toward his inner thigh and up to his crotch. He matched her movements, encouraging her.

  She wanted to seduce him. Denise wanted to be bold. That was the fun of this game. He’d known when he’d chosen her that Denise would pursue given the chance to do so.

  He tensed as her hand covered his aching length. She stilled, uncertain.

  “Don’t stop,” he gasped. Polero tipped his hips beneath her.

  Denise traced the bulge breathlessly. “So big,” she whispered.

  Taste it, he begged silently, restraining the mad urge to coerce her. Nothing the warriors can see until it’s too late, he reminded himself.

  Polero moved his free hand between her legs, skating his fingertips over her damp jeans, over the heat he’d created in her. His hunger spiked at that, at her excitement and the blood rushing in her veins.

  The hungers of the beast are formidable. He who cannot order his beast doesn’t deserve to live another day.

  Denise pushed up on her knees and brought her lips to his, tentatively, questioning Polero silently. He captured her mouth, stroking her more purposefully, letting her feel his hunger.

  She did feel it. Warriors believed there were few human sensitives, but Polero secretly believed that every woman was one to some extent. They all felt the darkness of the beast. Some were drawn to it. Some were repelled by it. Those who were drawn to it required no coercion to make them hunger to taste the darkness. Denise hungered for it, and the hunger made women behave in unbelievable ways. Denise pulled up at his shirt, and Polero released her long enough to allow her to pull it off.

  Strictly speaking, clothing wasn’t a necessity for Polero. He could project the illusion of clothing right down to the feel of the fabric against his own skin and the skin of anyone who touched him. He certainly didn’t need them to shield his body from the elements. Even in a solid form, the elements didn’t touch him, and dematerialized, he was impervious even to attack.

  Polero preferred clothing. He was one of the highest level turned there was. Elders and others like himself were capable of dematerializing solid, inanimate objects worn on their bodies. The illusion of clothing was one of the few powers he possessed that Polero seldom used. He preferred the reality of true clothing, and he preferred feeling women remove them.

  She kissed him, sinking into his hunger, matching his rising lust. Denise unbuttoned his jeans with a single pull. Polero groaned at the sensation. He loved the feel of the new jeans: acid-washed, relaxed fit, soft and form fitting. Nothing— Not even leather or silk felt as good against his body.

  Denise’s mouth closed around the head of his aching cock. Almost nothing feels better than jeans, but a woman’s body tops the list. She strained to take him in, and Polero wished he’d made himself smaller just to feel Denise take all of him. He smiled. She would take all of him very soon.

  Polero dragged her shirt up her body and unhooked her bra, playing at the tips of her breasts. “I will be returning this favor,” he promised her.

  She met his eyes, peeling her jacket, shirt and bra off as she drove him on, inviting Polero blatantly to use her body. He smiled, the predator raising its head and taking in her scent.

  Polero wanted Denise more than he’d wanted a woman in years. She was a classic beauty. Her hips were made to carry sons that some lucky human man would give her. Her breasts were lush and full, capped with rose-colored nipples. Only one thing was wrong. He reached out and pulled the clips from her hair, letting the heavy waves of auburn hair cascade over her shoulders.

  “Now,” he ordered. “I have to taste you.”

  Denise stood before him, unbuttoning her jeans and easing them down those wonderful hips. Polero took over as her curls appeared, sweeping her down onto the couch and stripping off her remaining clothing and shoes. Her gun thumped to the rug, forgotten by its owner.

  He buried his tongue in the well of her honey, drawing her essence out and tasting her. Far from assuaging his hunger, it fueled him. Her musk and her cries made him ache for more.

  The minister’s daughter danced in his mind much as she had danced for Polero, begging him to possess her again. He could take Denise’s blood now, drawing it from her as she shattered, her blood and climax mixing in his mouth, but the warriors would be on him before he could find further pleasure with her. Polero rose up over her, determined to feel his cock buried deep inside her.

  Denise’s eyes opened wide as the engorged head parted her. “No,” she gasped.

  He ground his teeth, tapping down his frustration. If she told him to stop now, he’d use coercion. He’d feed. Polero would taste her climax any way he had to. “Yes,” he counted urgently.

  Denise’s hand circled him. “Let me get on top.” She didn’t plead for what she wanted. She ordered what she needed from him.

  Polero smiled, visions of Denise stolen from her mind making him pulse in anticipation. He eased off of her and sat on the couch by her feet, stroking his length in invitation. “Yes,” he growled his agreement.

  She sat beside him, dropping to encase him in her mouth one last time and releasing him before Polero could protest. Denise placed a hand on his shoulder and swung her leg over him. Polero guided his cock, still wet and tingling from her mouth, between the slick outer lips of her sex. Denise lowered herself, sheathing his increased size, inch by torturous inch.

  “Yes,” he hissed. “Take me. Take all of me.” His hands tightened on her hips as Denise settled in his lap, taking him to the root.

  She started moving over him, taking what she needed from him, her body and mind a riot. Polero teased at her breasts, guiding her over his length faster, pounding hard into her.

  Denise was close, ready to plunge over the edge. It was time. Polero nuzzled her throat, allowing his fangs to extend as she threw her head back.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  “Why what?”

  “Why one puncture? Why not two?”

  He kissed at the artery, feeling the pulse of blood to her brain speed. “He’s a turned. Long before his master turned him, they went head to head, and one of his eyeteeth was broken in the exchange. It extends, but it isn’t sharp enough or long enough to pierce flesh.”

  Denise sighed as she wrapped her fingers in the waves of his hair. “How do you know?”

  “I was there.”

  Polero sank his single good fang into her, shuddering as the pain drove her over. Denise screamed in ecstasy, her muddled mind trying to piece together what he was doing to her. Her hands fisted in his hair, and her body clenched rhythmically on his length. He suckled at her, drinking deeply of both her blood and emotions, wrapping her at last in the pleasure he could give her while he fed. He was a master at this, at gauging how much pain a woman would bear in orgasm before he had to trick her mind into finding his feeding a joy.

 

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