BloodImmoral (4 page)

“I’m waiting,” he said.

“Wait forever, you bastard. You’ll pay and pay dearly. What you did was blood immoral. There are laws…”

He laughed with genuine amusement. “All’s fair in blood and sex, sweetheart. Who will be payer and who will be payee? Mirrrrrrrazan.” He purred, then growled, low in his throat.

The growl made her shiver, desire spiralling into every cell—as he intended. Damn him to the coldest pit in hell.

She turned away, the sound of his laughter goading her fury. He had bitten her and a cat’s mark was difficult to overcome. The nip on the back of her neck burned, a reminder that he had marked her for his own. And in the depth of her mind, she felt him lurking, his telepathic bond implanted at the same time as his bite, at the same time as his cock burned into her.
Fuck you!

Yes, I’ll fuck you. As often as I want, how I want, when I want. Run, and I’ll chase you, hunt you down. I’m the jaguar and this is my jungle. Run
.
But I’ll find you, because you’re mine. M.i.n.e.

I am not yours.

No?
He purred.

That purr of his… Ignoring the shiver of arousal, Mirrazan ran. She would rid herself of him and deal with the other problems, but psycho vamps and renegades were nothing compared to the difficulties one randy shapeshifter could bring to her life. But there was more than one way to skin a cat, and skin him she could, make him into a hearth rug and trample him to submission. Or, better still, turn his fur into a steering wheel cover for that rust-bucket car of his.

You’re welcome to try.

I’ll tame you, kitty.

Look forward to it, my pussy-pussy.

I am not your pussy!
She pivoted on her toes, facing him fists curled, and sent him a string of expletives that only a succubus could utter. There was a moment’s hesitation before his response pierced her mind—a tirade of cat shifter expletives guaranteed to fry whiskers, followed by images of what he would do to her, how, when. All punctuated by that bone-melting growl. Despite herself, she was intrigued.

You can’t do it that way, cat-boy.

Want to bet, my pussy?

Anything you like
.

Anything? I love a challenge. Meouw
.
If I prove I can do it that way, then you’ll stay with me for one hundred days.

One hundred days. That’s the shifter mating-ritual.

He laughed.
I’ll meet you at
Gothika
tomorrow night. Then I’ll show you I can do it to you that way and a hundred other ways besides. One hundred ways for one hundred days. Deal?

In your dreams.

Especially in your dreams, my pussy. If you don’t come tomorrow night, then I’ll stalk you in your dreams. You’ll come tomorrow night—in every way. I’ll teach you how to growl and purr. See you at midnight. If you default on the blood bond, Mirrazan, you’ll be sorry.

Mirra strode into the night, walking, when her instinct was to run as far away from him as possible. The bite on her nape burned. Itched. Her talon scratched, drawing blood. Oh hell, too late she realised, what she’d done. Her blood sealed the deal. It meant she’d accepted him. Now the link between them couldn’t be denied.

Gothika
, huh? Well, two could play at this game, Mirra thought as she walked. She’d make him pay and then she’d be free of him. Put her own spells on him to shrivel his cock and plague his dreams. No male interfered with her, be he man, shapeshifter or vampire. But first she had to face Sula and her sisters and then—the queen.

They will not interfere with you, my pussy. That’s the Law. I have you first.

Yes, that was The Law, time-honoured by all Blood. Mate first, pay later. Others would have to deal with Monica, the rogue vampire and his initiates. Blood immoral ruled, and that meant she and Ric had one hundred days of mating. Mirra didn’t know which would be worse, shifter games and damn mating rituals, or the queen and her punishments. She was marked in every which way.

And there was no way he could fuck her like that. It was physically impossible.

Want to bet on that, too?
he
demanded, purring, growling.

Cut that out. Cat-boy, you’ve met your match!

Yeah, babe, I like a challenge. Meouw
.
Grrrrrrrrr.

About the Author

Astrid has been writing since she was five years old and even then her stories were of the “fantastic”: aliens, spaceships, knights on magical quests. Astrid is an award-winning, best-selling author whose works encompass many genres and many formats (traditional print, electronic and POD). Active in s.f. fandom, she has organized s.f./fantasy conventions, edited over 100 fanzines, and run several fantasy ‘fan’ groups. When not writing, Astrid works in her two and a half acre ‘garden’ in rural South Australia.

She has other speculative fiction and paranormal erotica with Extasy Books (Pride’s Passion, Forbidden Nights and For Eternity and 3 stories in the “Violet Visions” anthology) and is working on a five-book mainstream fantasy series of “epic proportions”. She is contracted to edit an anthology (“Fabled Towers”) featuring stories about the Arthurian myth. Astrid is a freelance editor and is contracted by an agency to assess and edit manuscripts.

Astrid invites all readers to her website: www.astridcooper.com and maybe sign her guestbook and/or email her, as she enjoys hearing from readers and other writers!