Chosen (Part I) (3 page)

He gripped his cock and shoved forward, tapping to get further. I thrashed beneath him, lashed at his legs with my heels and kicked.

"Oh, yeah baby. Keep tryin' to fight me off. Just makes me hornier."

Surprisingly, he withdrew once his boner hit resistance and—freeing my wrists—he rose up to straddle my thighs. His faded jeans rumpled below his balls, blond hair encircling his cock. He stroked himself into a frenzy, arched his back and cried out in rapture.

Reddish tones darkened around his cock as it spewed and spurted. More quick strokes. His pale fluids pumped on my inner thighs, navel; even up to my breasts.

"
Ah, ah, ah. Oh, ohhh baby
." Ryan's hard, toned stomach quivered as he stroked.

Christ, his orgasm lasted forever. But he'd left my virginity intact.

Relief didn't last. He dipped and sank his teeth in my neck, sucked hard, savoring my pain.

I screamed, struck his shoulders over and over. Moisture ran from my mauled throat, pooled inside my ears like bloody tears.

And then real tears followed.

Ryan backed off. "Don't cry, princess. It'll only hurt a few more minutes." He grinned, sloped fangs glistening with my blood.

His teeth ripped my flesh.
Again
.

"
No. No, no, no...
" I writhed under his attack until succumbing to blessed darkness. 

* * * *

I
woke to an intense, hot throbbing at the side of my neck. Too terrified to look at the wound; too terrified to glimpse the full horror of it.

Visions flashed of a gory, gaping hole next to my throat.

Maybe my imagination made it seem worse? Either way the idea of looking made me nervous, nauseous. 

I lifted to a sitting position on the bed. In my weakened state, the red walls shifted and whirled. That bastard parasite must've taken quite a bit of blood.

Lucky I'm not dead.

At the other side of the room, Ashley slept with the covers up to her nose. No coincidence that her neck was shielded.

Time to admit obvious facts to myself. No more living in denial. Vampirism existed. Immortals existed. These facts confronted and stared me in the face; impossible to deny any longer.

Carefully I rose from the bed.

Within the en suite bathroom, my heart skipped as I glanced in the overhead mirror. In that instant I witnessed the horrific wounds.

I drew in a deep breath and peered closer.

Two vicious bites had created tiny, myriad holes beneath my jaw. Dried blood smeared it, caked a darker shade at jagged edges. Strands of my hair lay plastered to the injury. Copper lines from the wounds streaked to my chest and ears.

It looked like I'd been attacked by a vicious, rabid dog.

Nausea turned my stomach. I heaved, doubled over, sank in front of the toilet and puked. My nausea only worsened from the nasty odor of vomit.

By the time I was finished, the muscles ached in my shoulders, chest and stomach.

I grabbed the corner of the sink to hoist myself up. I leaned over the opaque basin waiting for my pulse and breathing to slow.

The wounds didn't look so bad after all. The idea of being attacked was far worse than the bites themselves.

I found a wash cloth in the lower cabinet, wet it, then gently wiped off the blood. I also raised my nightshirt and scrubbed away Ryan's sticky cum.

Afterward I lounged on the sectional, staring blankly into the shadowy realm of the suite.

Ryan Bouvier had stopped before full penetration. That meant he was still eligible to win this sicko contest his father created.

As long as he didn't screw me, Ryan could do anything he wanted.

Anything
.

I'd survived my first violent encounter with a vampire.

How many more encounters would I be forced to endure?

* * * *

I
lay daydreaming in bed.

Since the age of fourteen I'd read romance books of the paranormal variety. Vampires were romanticized to a ridiculous degree, and thus I often fantasized about them.

I grew out of that silliness after a year or so.

And if I'd only known those fantasies would some day become reality.

This reality was more of a nightmare; certainly nothing like the fluffy romance I once conjured between myself and a handsome good-natured immortal.

No. Ryan wasn't anything like Mr. E. Cullen.

Too damn bad.

I worried about Mom and Dad. I was their only child and they
had
to be going nuts since my sudden absence. I was sure they had the police looking for me.

Good god. When would I be saved from this?

One of the vampires' warnings came back to haunt me:
'The Bouvier Secret Society will get away with it, because we've gotten away with it for the past one hundred years.'

And exactly
where
was this Bouvier Secret Society located? Was Jardin d'Eden anywhere near my hometown in Louisiana? Likely.

Days had passed since
Master
Ryan's half-assed invasion of my body.

A sense of calm gradually returned to my mentality.

But calmness meant complacency. Normally I had a good imagination and I used it to pretend danger didn't exist. My memory of Ryan's cruelty was only the memory of a dream.

If only that were true.

I went back and forth like that believing in some bullshit fantasy, then being thrust back to reality.

It was the only way I knew how to survive.

I learned from another immortal that when the contest concluded, the chosen deflowered girl would be bound to the vampire forever and expected to breed.

The other girl, the loser, would be terminated. As would the remaining eleven but not before being used up by Society Leader Ansel Bouvier.

Yes. Ansel would help himself to all twelve girls.

My determination unwavered, I'd run off before he had the chance to use me.

During this time I got to know Ashley Simon. She was my age, having turned eighteen mere days before her abduction. Her drink was spiked while patronizing a cafe.

Ashley's boyfriend's name was Bradley. He was nineteen, Christian, and had unknowingly lost his woman to a pack of monsters.

Ashley's
new
boyfriend, of course, was Court. He'd visited her a few times, seemed somewhat nice. Thankfully he was much better than Ryan. I never saw Court hurt Ashley in any way. He only kissed her, and usually on the cheek.

They engaged in long conversations at nighttime. I'd listen, fascinated at the confessions they shared. They had a lot in common.

They'd likely end up together and in love no matter what. Maybe Court would steal her away to safety? One could hope.

Then I'd only have myself to save.

* * * *

S
omething happened; an incident which shattered my newly complacent attitude.

The door creaked open as I nestled under the covers of my bed. Quietly bracing myself upon my elbows, I lifted part-way and saw a tall, lean man enter our suite.

He was
not
Court Marseille.

This man wore a robe like the others used to wear, except his was burgundy, velvet, designed with a diamond-shaped pattern. Upon his fingers, ruby rings glittered in the candle light and cascaded the walls in dazzling radiance.

His long robe flapped behind as he advanced. His face was hidden behind the hood. It looked as if he had no face at all; just a deep, empty chasm.

I cringed... yet I couldn't stop watching.

He hesitated at Ashley's bedside. She shot upright, swung her legs over the mattress—as if preparing to bolt.

He said nothing and neither did she. Ashley's huge eyes met his, which were suspended somewhere inside that vast hood. Or so I hoped.

He stood ramrod straight. Didn't move a single muscle.

Another tremor fired through me. The immensely creepy way he stood there, unmoving, was more frightening than an outright spoken threat.

Finally he reached inside the robe's side pocket and brought out a needle syringe. Ashley's expression shifted to a ludicrous mix of confusion and alarm.

He took a step forward. "Don't be scared," he said without emotion. "I'm going to inject you with something to help you relax. Alright?"

She gazed up at him. Ashley reluctantly nodded as her lips drooped to a frown.

The mysterious figure hovered closer, removed the needle cap.

"Hold out your arm, Ashley." He raised the syringe. She stretched out her left arm. The stranger used his other hand to rotate her arm until the palm faced up. Then he pressed the needle to the arm's center.

Ashley blanched as the needle penetrated. He depressed the plunger.

"In a moment you'll feel better. I promise." He extracted the needle and dropped it in his pocket. Ashley sighed pulling back her arm. She held it to her chest, observing the man. 

"Feeling better yet, darling?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Wha—what are you going to do to me?"

"Don't worry about it just yet. Allow yourself to relax. The medication should take effect at any second."

Ashley shivered.

Within moments she started to unwind. Her trembling stopped and her eyelids drooped. She struggled to repeat her prior inquiry.

"I see you're now relaxed," the hood said. "To answer your question, I'm going to show you how to give oral sex. How does that sound?"

She grunted, shrugged nonchalantly and slumped flat against the mattress.

"No, darling." He slanted over, grabbed her upper arms and hoisted her upright. Her head lolled; her limp torso weaved.

"You can't give a blow job like that, darling. You must be sitting up."

"Mm-hm. Okay, whatever."

"Very good."

"I think you gave me too much," she said. 

"Too much?"

"Yeah..."

"Nonsense. I gave the right amount. I've been doing this longer than you've been alive."

"Mm-hm. Okay." Her eyes rolled back.

Meanwhile I was
utterly
horrified. But what could I do? 

The stranger's hands moved to the velvety straps fastened around his waist. He untied his robe, opened it. Starting with the hood, it slid from his bare, golden shoulders. The robe fell in a heap onto the floor.

Fully nude, he stepped out of it.

I gasped. This vampire was
breath-taking
; beautiful. Sure he resembled the others, but there was something truly different about him. Something magnificent, alluring with the graceful way he strode to her bedside; his slender, naked hips gleamed in the candlelight.

He gawked at Ashley, not yet beginning the 'lesson'.

Lighter shades streaked his honey-colored hair, styled perfectly and feathery near his forehead (as if the guy spent hours and hours on his hair). The hairline joined in an attractive widow's peak. Russet eyebrows intensified his electric blue eyes. So impossibly blue they exhibited an eerie glow.

His inviting lips parted, the bottom one fuller than the top. A hint of golden hair shaded his bottom lip and further gold traced his chin along the edge.

A silver crucifix dangled on a chain around his neck. It was the only thing he wore, which only made him sexier. 

He possessed a strong jawline. His shoulders were wide, chest broad, stomach muscular and ridged with a nice six-pack. Veins protruded from his tanned arms and fiery skull tattoos enhanced his flexing biceps. And below his naval, sandy hair formed a straight path down to his erect cock.

Yum
.

Jesus. I hadn't realized my mouth was agape. I closed it.

My arms got sore from propping myself partially upright, along with my neck from straining to see.

I laid back, then scooted to an angle so I could turn my head and keep looking.

The bed squeaked. I froze.

He never looked my way. His eyes remained on Ashley as he caressed her cheek, almost lovingly. Wide-eyed, she gazed up at him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

His cock pointed high, the shaft long and sloped.

Apparently he was heavily anticipating that blow job.

"Are you ready, darling?" he asked moving toward her.

"Yeah. You're hot." Ashley giggled. I had to agree with her.

And that beautiful creature flashed a warm smile, making him even
more
handsome. How was
that
possible?

Even his razor-sharp incisors attracted me... made my heart perform backward flips.

Fucking crazy.

He got in front, slipped between her thighs and pressed his boner to her lips. "Open your mouth, darling. Open it wide."

Ashley giggled again. Her lips were apart but not wide enough for his cock. She licked the head with the tip of her tongue, then retreated and clamped her mouth shut while fighting off a wicked grin.

"You taste good." She ran her tongue over her lips.

"Tease." He blew out a sigh, and his azure bedroom eyes veered to me.

I jolted.
Shit. He saw me.

He saw me.

He saw me.

Quiet. So very quiet.

"I don't wanna do it anymore," Ashley muttered. "I'm too tired. I want to sleep."

"Do it anymore? You haven't done anything."

"Sorry." Her bed squeaked as she reclined.

"You disappoint me, Ashley. I gave you that drug to help you relax, not help you sleep."

She started snoring.

"So be it.
C'est connerie
."

"Leave her alone," I blurted. "She's sleepy because you drugged her."

"Yes. I was planning to leave her be. Thank you so much for your concern."

Sarcasm noted. Then I bravely raised to examine him as he stared from across the room. His penis had shrunken to a semi-erection.

Still looked big enough to me.

Vivid blue eyes challenged mine. Beyond curious, I wanted to know his name and how he was related to the others.

"Your name's Tatum."

I swallowed, mesmerized by the sound of my name on his lips. "Yes."
What's yours?

Brief silence as our gazes locked.

"How did you know my name?" I questioned. His eyes warmed.