Blood Stained Tranquility (56 page)

Well, she wanted him to suffer, yes, but thinking about what she’d do to Ianthen if he was mated to her made her feel a twinge of pity. Just a twinge. Not enough to stop her from causing him pain, though. Because she would never forgive him, never forget what he’d done and what she’d seen, which meant he’d be trapped in the mating, suffering for her.

That’s why you blew up an entire mountain to get him out of that place. Right.

Fucking hormones.

That was it. She had been given an entire world of immortals to choose from. It was a delicious, mouthwatering smorgasbord, actually.
Erencei
s,
Vy’shi
s, and
Sesengts
galore.
It was time she get her world rocked by one of those well-endowed fuckers. After all, she was only looking for a dildo with a body attached, and immortal men were notoriously horny.

She needed to get laid—for real this time—with wall-banging, furniture-breaking intensity.

Maybe then she’d be able to forget that motherfucker and how he’d felt.

Smelled.

Sounded.

Tasted
.

Damn it!

She materialized in front of the bar, grabbed a huge bottle that had been meant for a black-haired mind
Erencei
, and chugged that entire shit down in one shot.

When it was gone she caught sight of Dimithinia in tight jeans, a black open sweater, and a belly shirt underneath. All very sexy, especially considering that she was dancing like something straight out of a Shakira video. Then again, Ritrio had apparently inspired both Indian and Egyptian culture alike.

But what the hell was up with the sweater? Wasn’t she hot?

Oh, she’s hot all right.

Sol snickered. If she had swung that way, she’d have violated Dimi right in front of Crius. Snickering at the thought, she placed her bottle on the bar and motioned for the bartender to bring her another one.

The mind demon she’d taken the first one from leaned against the bar, his white-and-black eyes amused. He was sexy. Really sexy. And he had intricate white and black markings trailing down his cheeks and onto his neck. He had the prominent cheekbones, too.

Soleria had an affinity for beings that were close to her ancestral species. They were a sexy lot. Herself included.

She would’ve paid him more attention, but at that moment, her second bottle of whatever-the-hell-it-was had arrived, and she had moved on to searching out Crius. Searching and praying that he was seeing this.

She caught sight of him almost instantly. The male looked absolutely bitable in a pair of black leathers and a black turtleneck. There was no way she could miss the force of his glare. It was like a palpable energy pulsating through the room. His silver, pupilless eyes were focused on one spot and one spot only.

That’s what Sol called a first-class eye fuck right there. Sitting with Hades at a table on the left, he was staring at Dimi with the angriest, horniest expression Sol had ever seen on a male’s face.

Her friends were lucky whores. For real.

She threw her head back, laughing at him.

The gorgeous piece of meat next to her leaned closer. Soleria turned to him, seeing his lips moving. He was saying something, but even with her new, immortal superhearing she couldn’t make out what.

Damn. He really was sexy. Frightening with his white-on-black eyes, but in a totally masculine “I’ll break you in half while I fuck you” way.

Too bad his features were getting lost behind a rapidly expanding blur.

Soleria put a hand to her forehead. She shook her head, trying to get some focus going. Heat rushed through her. It erupted from her stomach and spread out, slashing her veins. Her skin flushed hot, and her pulse fluttered all over the place.

Holy shit. What the hell had she just drunk?

Her instincts careened straight into her pelvis, pulling her out onto the dance floor and into the midst of all the writhing bodies. She raised her white belly shirt higher, grabbed onto her hair with one hand, and lost it.

She freaking lost it.

The air became her lover, her hips ground against it as if there were a cock under her. The music was already loud and demanding, but suddenly it was inside her in a way she never imagined.

As Enrique and Usher sang about doing it right, Sol dove her other hand into her hair, holding on and rotating this way and that as the music fucked her on the dance floor, in front of everyone.

Dimi had to be drunk on the same thing. She had to be, and this shit was some
real
good shit. Endorphins rushing, she threw her body from side to side, letting her abs flex back and forth like Dimi’s had just been doing.

A huge mass of muscles appeared in her way and she ran into it, her ass colliding with something so good. Something familiar.

Too familiar.

The scent she caught was even worse. It wrapped around her like a pheromone-drenched blanket. An insane rush of arousal hit her. Soleria bit into her bottom lip and felt blood hit her tongue.

A low growl trembled around the shell of her ear and nearly took her feet out from under her.

Her uterus detonated under the pressure.

Soleria gasped, grasping desperately at the part of her brain responsible for muscle command and screaming at herself to move the fuck away.

She didn’t get the chance.

A hand latched onto her hip. A hand she knew well. Just like she knew the length that was pressing into her ass, and the scent assaulting her cerebral cortex. She didn’t need to look behind her. She fucking
knew
.

Ianthen spun her around.

Her heart curled into itself, like the sun preparing to implode.

Dear Lord
. The way his white T-shirt stretched across his pecs not only brought back memories, it brought forth fantasies. Fantasies that broke free of her mind before she could stop them.

Mouth hanging open, she stood there, horrified to feel her eyes lowering, taking in the length of him.

Her
Erencei
markings singed her skin, feeling like hot brands that pulsated toward him.

She raised her eyes to his, and he looked furious. He cupped her cheek, tracing what was most likely a now pronounced cheekbone.

Whatever it was she’d had to drink, it was messing with her. Growing stronger. Heat rose, and she could’ve sworn that she saw red pulsing at the corners of her vision.

Ianthen drew her nearer.

Then he grabbed her ass, as if he had every right to do so, and lifted her up just enough to press her mound on his cock.

Soleria shook her head. “No.”

She had no way of knowing if her protest was for him, or if it was for her drugged-up, beyond horny body.

“Yes.”

His eyes had enlarged, his pupils, irises, and rims expanding dangerously. He moved his hand so he could caress her mouth with his thumb, and she caught sight of an inch-long row of—were those staples? What the hell? It looked like he had a neatly stapled row of glowing chips that began at his inner elbow and ended at his wrist.

They were on his other arm as well.

Come to think of it, where were those weird cuffs he was wearing before?

He yanked her closer, so hard that she found herself chest to chest, and her pussy was getting too good of a feel at what he had packing.

God he was packing. She knew that. And her now-immortal twat, that fucking traitor, was collapsing in on itself, begging to be fed.

“Let me go,” she whispered, knowing that there was no way she’d be able to pull away from him. Her blood had turned into sludge inside her veins.

Ian bent her upper body backward, enough to gain full control over her. “No. You wanna dance? Use me.” He thrust into her to the beat of the music, as if to prove his point. Then, he moved his mouth to her ear, breathing hard. “And if you wanna fuck, you use me. Gods, baby. You use me.
Only
me.”

Soleria opened her mouth—to tell him off, she was sure—when he filled her mouth with his tongue, feeding her a dose of that taste of his that drove her mad.

She lost it. She’d thought she’d lost it before, but that time, she really lost all control as an orgasm ripped through her, making her writhe desperately on his thigh.

Just at the taste of him.

Exactly as it had happened the last time.

About the Author

N. Isabelle Blanco was born in Queens, NY (USA). At the age of three, due to an odd fascination with studying her mother’s handwriting, she began reading and writing. By the time she’d reached kindergarten, she had an extensive vocabulary and her obsession with words began to bleed into every aspect of her life. An avid reader in her teens, her fascination with Japanese anime eventually led her to the universe of fan fiction, which became her on-again, off-again hobby for the next ten years. During that time she amassed a following of fans that, by her own admission, she would never be able to live without. It was those fans who encouraged her to step beyond the fan fiction realm and try her talent in the publishing world.

N. Isabelle Blanco now has three novellas and two full-length novels under her belt, and spends her days working as an author, web programmer, marketer, and graphic designer. Her free time is spent with her “spawn,” as she calls her son, brainstorming for his future career as a comic book illustrator.

Also by N. Isabelle Blanco

Blood Flows Deep in the Empire (A Szolite Novel)
-
Dyletri, God of Fertility, has locked away his powers. No woman is allowed to touch him, not until he can return his long-dead lover back to life. All he has to do is sacrifice one human girl, a girl who unlocks his powers and rips his dormant lust right out of his body. Trapped by his promise, Dyletri has no choice but to watch Ismini die, no matter how much he wants her.

Yet the darkness of his calling is spiraling within him, demanding he claim the human as his. If he goes back on his promise, the energy of the Fates will cause untold destruction in the Universe. That doesn’t change how Dyletri’s begun exhibiting symptoms that point to more than just lust. How does he allow Ismini to die when she’s come to own him from the inside out?

Desire and torment spiral into something much darker than obsession, more turbulent than an addiction, and something much more brutal than a mere soul-mating. As a war is being rekindled right under his nose, Dyletri will have to come to terms with a destiny eleven thousand years in the making. He thought he’d known what path his future would take, but he’d been wrong. Now the one woman he truly loves might pay the price for his decision.

Blood Flows Deep in the Empire
is the first in a series that will pit free-will against Destiny, Destiny against Fate, and love against brutal desire. Everyone likes to think they have a choice as to who they end up with, but as they rise to face the greatest threat they’ve ever known, even the Gods will learn they have to bend to Destiny’s whim to survive.

Praise for Blood Flows Deep in the Empire