All Hallows Heartbreaker (11 page)

“Whatever your heart desires. Have you ever heard of morning wood?”

Emmy snickered. “Then you’ll have a stake between your legs, just for me?”

Dylan grimaced. “A stake anywhere near my person doesn’t engender pleasant thoughts.”

“Even when you are the stake?” She looked over her shoulder and circled her lips with her tongue in a slow tease. “Then how about a pole?”

“I’ve got a bloody pole for you now, witch.”

“But I want to have my wicked way with you while you sleep. I bet you won’t even know it.”

“I will. It’ll be a wet dream.”

* * * * *

Emmy woke well past noon. Her inner clock was quickly aligning with Dylan’s, she mused. Stretching like a cat, she rubbed her buttocks against Dylan’s groin. Sure enough, his cock had plenty of starch. She made a space between her thighs and tightened around him, flexing her hips to make him slide along her cunt.

Liquid pooled between her thighs. Her very own anatomically amazing Dyl-do. Emmy rolled over. Dylan laid on his side, fast asleep, his dark hair spilling across his face.

Her fingers smoothed the locks away, and she leaned close to kiss his lips. Not an eyelash fluttered. She sighed. It was so much more fun when he participated.

She pushed him on his back, and he rolled easily, settling with his legs spread wide.

“How convenient.” He was all hers to explore. She reached for the lamp on the bedside table and flicked it on, tilting the shade to bathe his body in the golden glow.

She straddled his hips, teasing her cunt with a glide over his rigid pole and leaned down to begin her exploration.

The flat, brown disks on his chest drew her like a magnet. She tongued them, savoring the velvet skin, then drew the tips between her teeth. As she sucked, they hardened to tiny, beaded points. She wet her fingertips and glided them over the tips of her own breasts, tugging the nipples until they grew rigid, then she guided her breasts to rub her nipples against his.

Her breath quickened and her pussy moistened. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, and flexed her hips for another, wetter glide over his cock.

Combing her fingers through the hair on his chest, she raked through it, enjoying its soft, silky texture. She followed the dark arrow of hair down his belly and scooted further down his hips. His cock sprang skyward, fuller, redder than before.

She tapped the swollen head. “You’d better be dreaming of me.”

Wrapping her hand around him, she was thrilled her fingers didn’t meet. Then both hands encircled him and she squeezed, pushing down. Lowering her head, she licked down the length of him, then up the other side. His flesh was satiny-smooth and invited a more thorough examination.

Dylan’s head rolled on the pillow, and he murmured. But still he slept.

“Oh Dylan,” she whispered. “I’m going to be a very naughty girl.”

And she’d give Dylan the sexiest, wettest dream he ever had.

Emmy spit into her hand and rubbed it over the head of his cock. Then she rose on her knees, and with one hand guiding him to her asshole, and the other spreading her cheeks, she sank down on him, gasping when the blunt round head breached her tight ring, and he glided inside.

At first, her tender, inner flesh resisted the intrusion, then she pushed down and levered up, then down again, reveling in the painful fullness. She wet her fingertips again and sought her clitoris, already swelling with arousal, and swirled her fingers over it, rubbing harder as she picked up the pace, pumping her ass on his cock.

Her climax built gradually, and she closed her eyes, arching her back as it burst over her. She groaned loudly, her hips jerking until she couldn’t move again.

She collapsed onto his chest and rubbed her face in his hair. “Baby, if you only knew how bad I really am.”

Emmy eased off him and retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom. As she cleansed his body, she admitted a possessive streak she’d never known. He was hers. Every sexy, rigid inch of him.

She reached to pull up the sheets. When she reached Dylan’s shoulders, she realized his eyes were slitted. He was watching her.

“You are a naughty girl,” he whispered.

“You were awake? The whole time?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” He smiled—a wicked self-satisfied smirk. “A man would have to be dead to not notice when a beautiful girl is enthralled with his cock.” He patted the bed beside him.

Emmy crawled over him, mortification heating her cheeks. Spooned together, Emmy waited for his breathing to quiet. Her heart finally stopped thumping in her chest. He’d never let her live this down. Her stomach growled loudly and she decided to go in search of leftovers. But first things first.

After showering, she found his robe lying in a heap on the floor and put it on, cinching it around her waist. Tonight, she’d have to make a trip to her apartment for some of her own clothing. It was positively decadent to walk around naked all the time.

Letting herself out of the bedroom, she closed the door and turned toward the stairs. She heard a creek on the staircase below and stiffened. Had one of the dogs gotten into the house? Come to think of it, she hadn’t heard a single bark. Surely, she would have wakened earlier if she had. Senses on the alert, she walked slowly to the head of the stairs.

From the corner of her eye she saw a movement and gasped, but before she could call out, a hand closed over her mouth and she was drawn back against a long, tall body. Her head bumped against the hard shell of a helmet.

“Not a word…” a voice whispered in her ear, “…or I’ll see Dylan dies before he clears the bed? Do you understand?”

She nodded, her heart pounding with fear.

“We’re leaving now. Do as I say, and you won’t be harmed.”

Not believing a word Nicky spoke, nevertheless Emmy let herself be dragged down the stairs and out the front door.

Chapter Eleven

“There were two vamps,” Dylan said, as he surveyed the bodies of his dogs, lying in a heap next to the side gate. Indentions from boot prints in the mud next to the dogs told the story.

“Nicky’s doing?” Quentin asked.

“Of course, it was his doing.” Dylan ran a hand through his hair. He had to keep it together. He could only imagine how frightened she must be now.

“He’s mad. Surely, he realizes he’s courting death.”

“I have to hope that’s exactly why he’s doing it,” Dylan said, stony resolve making his voice hard.

“To use her for leverage? And if he isn’t?”

“Then we need to find her fast. He’ll kill her.” Dylan fought the panic that rose in his throat. Calm. He must be deliberate and calm.

The moment Dylan had woken at dusk, he’d known she was gone. He smelled engine oil and leather inside the house—but so far outside, only the dogs’ blood.

“But where?” Quentin asked, raising his stark gaze to Dylan’s.

“I know where. To hell.”

* * * * *

Emmy fought the rising terror that threatened to choke her. Flickering candlelight distorted the shadows the vampires cast as they moved around the cramped room, making them appear larger, darker. She already knew they were dangerous as hell—and crazy to be fucking with her boyfriend.

Nicky had tossed her robe to a dark corner of the room as soon as they’d entered, and she was naked.

Naked and spread-eagle on the soiled mattress—in the back room of the Viper’s Den.

The smell of stale sex, urine, and a few unidentifiable odors emanated from the mattress. The cockroaches and mice she heard skittering from the room were the least of her worries.

Nicky’s gleaming gaze sent warning signals clambering to her brain. He’d prepared well. Spikes had been driven into the floor and walls, to which chains fitted with manacles were attached.

Emmy struggled against the chains to free herself, but only managed to further injure the tender flesh around her wrists and ankles. She gave up hope of rescuing herself. Instead, she prayed for Dylan to find her soon.

“Leave us,” Nicky said to the male vamp that had remained silent throughout Emmy’s kidnapping.

He’d driven the second motorcycle, while Emmy had clung to the back of Nicky’s, sitting on the edges of her robe to keep it from flapping away. Her stomach had tightened to a knot when she’d recognized their destination. Nicky didn’t intend to ever let her go. She’d die in hell.

After one last covetous stare, the male vamp shuffled from the room.

Relieved his unblinking stare was no longer on her skin, all her attention focused on Nicky.

The apartment outside the small, stifling room was quiet. Emptied at Nicky’s order, no doubt. Still dressed in the leather biker gear, he had removed his helmet and gloves. His long, tousled dark hair framed a symmetrically perfect face that was marred with a twisted sneer.

He bent to pull one of her chains, stretching her legs wider. “Now you look—perfect.” His hand skimmed over her calf and up her thigh, pausing inches from her core. “This will be the first thing he sees,” he said, and then cupped her mound. “I can see why your flesh fascinates him. You’re so responsive. I’ve raised gooseflesh, even here.”

Emmy fought the urge to cringe from his hand. She refused to give him the satisfaction of her fear.

“Never doubt. You’ll be mine, tonight.”

Emmy glared, for once at a loss for a snappy comeback. She hoped like hell rape wasn’t part of his agenda.

“All this lovely white skin,” he said, smoothing over her belly, and then up to cup one breast. “Very pretty. Monica didn’t do you justice. Said you were a lumpy little thing.” He twisted her nipple.

She fought the urge to cry out, knowing any response would incite a reprisal. Time was her friend. Dylan was on the way. She knew it. She could feel him drawing closer.

“What will Dylan say when he sees you like this?” he said, echoing her own thoughts. “Will he care?”

Of course he’ll care. He’ll kill you, asshole!
Unable to stop herself, she jerked when he knelt on the mattress and then climbed onto her, straddling her hips. “You know, I’d be very worried if I were you. Very worried, indeed.”

“Speaking of Monica. I’m surprised she isn’t here for this,” Emmy said, trying to prolong the conversation. “After all, she introduced us.”

Nicky’s hand caressed her jaw, and then turned her head to the side, exposing her neck. “Monica suffered a severe case of sunburn. She won’t be joining us—ever.”

Emmy closed her eyes. The Monica who had been her friend had died days ago. “So this little party’s just for me? I mean, it seems you went to an awful lot of trouble for one lumpy girl.”

“You’re just the appetizer, sweetheart. And the bait. Sweet bait.” With a low growl, Nicky bared his teeth.

As she watched his fangs slide over his teeth, her heart beat so loudly she could hear its pounding in her ears.

He stepped his knees between her legs and ground his leather-clad crotch against her pussy. “He’s coming,” Nicky said. “But he’ll be too late.” Planting his hands on either side of her chest, he leaned forward and sank his teeth into her neck.

Emmy cried out against the pain—he hadn’t prepared her tender skin as Dylan always did. And he bit deeply into her. Blood left her face and mind, racing to the two small wounds in her neck as he suctioned.

She had a fleeting thought that perhaps it would be better for Dylan if she were never found.

* * * * *

Dylan turned the door handle to the entrance of The Viper’s Den, and let it creak open a couple of inches. What he already knew was confirmed. A single vamp lurked inside the living room.

He drew back and flattened himself against the wall.

To Quentin, flanking the other side of the door, he raised one finger and pointed at him.

Quentin nodded, then stood in front of the door. With a powerful thrust, he kicked the door the rest of the way open, making it bounce against the wall loudly and charged into the room.

Already in full bloodlust, the vamp within roared and leaped at Quentin. Quentin feinted to the side and the vamp hit the wall. Hunkering on his haunches, he sprang at Quentin, taking him to the floor.

Now that Quentin had one of them well in hand, Dylan took advantage of the vamp’s preoccupation and skirted around the combatants and into the hallway beyond. His heart pounded heavy in his chest as he approached the small dreary bedroom at the end.

The door swung open and Nicky stepped into the opening, clothed only in leather pants, the snap at the top open, and the zipper halfway down. Dylan smelled Emmy’s blood on him, along with her perfume—and Emmy’s own musk.

Dylan roared his agony, his face reforming, and his teeth sliding down, ready to take Nicky apart. He raised his hands, letting the bloodlust transform his hands into claws to swipe the self-satisfied gloat from his enemy’s face.

Then he heard a soft mewling like a weakened kitten from within the room.

“What will you do, Dylan?” Nicky taunted him. “You have only a few moments to save her—if you can. Or are you so far gone you have to take me?”

Fighting the bloodlust, Dylan bellowed again and stepped inside the room.

Emmy lay on the bed, her pale skin nearly translucent, blue-tinged. A dark crimson ribbon of blood stained her neck and the tops of her breasts. But Dylan could hear her thready pulse and see her chest struggle to rise.

Brushing past Nicky, his armor melted away as he hurried to the mattress. Nicky’s mocking laughter trailed down the hallway, but Dylan cared only that Emmy still lived, still had a chance. But there wasn’t much time.

He knelt on the mattress beside her. “Em. It’s Dylan. I’m here.”

Her lids fluttered, but didn’t open.

“I’ll turn you, love. You can stay with me, if that’s what you want.”

“Dylan…” she whispered.

He leaned closer, his ear to her lips.

“Will I have…this ass for eternity?” she asked, a feeble smile lifting the corners of her lips.

“Yes, love.”

“Then do it. Don’t want to leave you. Promised.”

Dylan’s jaw clenched. “First, I have to take more of your blood.”

“I know…”

Dylan closed his eyes and murmured a quick prayer, and then bit into the unmarked side of her throat. Her blood entered his mouth, sluggish and cooling by the moment.

When her breath rattled one last time in her chest, he stopped and tore his wrist with his teeth, then held it to her mouth, trickling blood onto her tongue. “Drink, Emmy. For God’s sake, drink.”

Her throat didn’t move to swallow. He leaned back and massaged her neck, until he felt a feeble gulp, and then pressed his wrist to her mouth again. This time, she latched onto it, her tongue working against the edges of his flesh. She inhaled, her lungs gasping for air.

Tears streaked down Dylan’s face. Emmy would make it.

“Dylan, Nicky set a fire,” Quentin yelled from down the hallway.

“Bastard!” Dylan continued to let Emmy feed, needing the extra minutes to make sure she was strong before he moved her.

Behind him, Quentin closed the door. “We’ll have to take her through the window.” Quentin shoved aside the curtain and cursed. “He installed bars. We’re trapped.”

“We haven’t a choice, then. We have to go through the fire. Help me with the chains.” Dylan pulled his wrist away from Emmy.

Her eyes, hollow but shining in the dark, offered him her trust.

Together, he and Quentin wrapped the chains in the floor around their wrists and pulled with all their might, working the stakes free. They lost precious minutes tugging on the chains in the wall, breaking chunks of plaster to free Emmy’s arms.

Dylan helped her to her feet, and then dipped down to drape her over his shoulder. “Get the mattress. We’ll use it as a shield to walk through the fire.”

With Quentin in the lead, Dylan followed down the hallway, which was filled with a roiling cloud of black smoke. When they reached the entrance to the living room, Quentin laid the mattress on the floor, and then lifted it, damping down the next few feet of flames that ate at the wood flooring.

“We’ll have to run for it,” Quentin shouted over his shoulder, then with a roar, he held the mattress in front of them and charged toward the door.

Without breaking stride, Quentin pushed the mattress through the door, splintering the wood. Dylan, gripping Emmy tightly, was at his back and the two men stumbled through, landing on the smoldering mattress in the hallway beyond the apartment.

The flames had traveled through the ceiling and cinders rained down on them from above. “Run!” Quentin shouted and pushed Dylan in front of him.

Filled with smoke and the crackling roar of the fire above, the hallway seemed to stretch endlessly in front of Dylan. Unable to see beyond a few inches in front of his face, he rushed forward, praying he had the strength and breath to make it to the door.

Hold on, Emmy. Almost there.
He slammed into the wooden door at the entrance, and wasn’t the least surprised to discover that the door handle had been removed. “Quentin!” he shouted above the roar of the fire.

Quentin shoved him aside and rammed his shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge. He backed up and hammered into it again. A crack in the center sucked air into the foyer. Another blow, and the doorway gave, and the fire roared toward them, fed by oxygen sucked through the gaping hole.

Dylan leapt through the gap and cleared the steps beyond. Quentin slammed into his back, and together with Emmy, they rolled clear of the ball of flame that followed them toward the street.

Coughing, Dylan crawled, dragging Emmy across the grassy weeds to the sidewalk. He rose on his knees to strip the shirt from his back and draped it across Emmy’s naked body.

“Emmy? Are you alright?” he asked, afraid of her pallor and her stillness.

Her chest raised and she expelled a ragged breath that caught. She curled on her side as a series of coughs racked her body. Dylan lay down beside her, stroking her hair, kissing her shoulders, knowing that she’d recover soon. She was a vampire now and the injury to her lungs would heal in moments.