Rogue (Sons of Sangue Book 4) (3 page)

He glanced at the clock on the wall. Nine thirty five. He had told Draven he would arrive on the half hour, and the barkeep had yet to bring him a donor, putting a damper on his already sour mood. The sooner he fed, the quicker he was on his way and back off the Sons’ radar. Anton was pretty sure the two brothers on the other side of the door probably felt much the same. He detested the fact his comrades despised him for defecting. He might as well suck it up. In the end, it wasn’t Cara or Kane’s fault for the situation he found himself in. He had been the one to agree to it. Plain and simple. Anton couldn’t leave Draven hanging out to dry on his own. Someone needed to be on the inside to protect him. In the end, if Kane got his justice against the man who had caused the death of his son, Ion, then Anton would consider it time well spent, no matter the repercussions.

The door to the bar opened, spilling the loud club music into the room. India, a dark-skinned donor, closed the door behind her. The woman was gorgeous, with a pair of legs that seemed to go on forever. Any man would feel lucky to have them wrapping his waist.

If he was only looking to get laid…

He had fed from India before, but never once mixing his food with pleasure where she was concerned. He preferred to keep things platonic with most donors. Not saying he was a saint. Just less drama in the end. India’s blood had a smooth smoky flavor. Each blood donor had their own unique taste, which is why some of the Sons preferred one donor over the other.

He found India’s blood definitely pleasing to his palate, but he wasn’t about to feed exclusively. The less they expected, the fewer feelings that got hurt along the way. For now, his life was in Santa Barbara. Coming to Oregon was purely about nourishment.

Anton stifled a chuckle.

Who the hell was he trying to fool? Oregon was his home … always would be. No matter how many days and weeks he spent south of the border, his heart remained north of it. Spending much time on his home turf in the last year hadn’t been an option.

Until now.

Anton needed a little R&R, and he didn’t give two shits what Tank had to say about the matter. He’d lay low for a week or two before heading back to his life with the Devils. Fuck Tank, or anyone else for that matter, if they didn’t like it. He needed to get the hell away from the men who occupied his days. He feared losing his shit and taking a few of them out. Some of them were simply a waste of good oxygen.

“Hey there, handsome.” India smiled, taking Anton’s mind off the unpleasantness of his life.

His gums ached as his fangs filled his mouth and his eyes heated, telling him they had transformed to twin obsidian coals. Anton worked the tightness from his jaw as he watched India approach with a slight sway to her hips. Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, divulging her nerves. India never hid the fact she preferred being just a donor, not really wanting more from the Sons. She needn’t worry. Anton wasn’t looking for a piece of ass.

Out of all the Sons, Anton probably abstained the most. Truth of it, in the past couple of years, he had been preoccupied with a fucked up love triangle. One he had been destined to lose from the beginning, but was too damn enamored to see it. Tamera Cantrell had been an infatuation for him long before Grayson stepped up to the plate and finally took back what was rightfully his in the first place. Disappointment and heartache had followed for Anton. He’d never stood a chance. The knowledge hadn’t made the sting of rejection any less.

His feisty neighbor came to mind.

She too had a way with twisting his guts with longing. Kimber had no idea vampires existed, making her more off-limits than Tamera had been. Vampires and humans didn’t mix for risk of exposure. Rules were put into place to keep them safe from exposure. Draven kept a good supply of donors around for feeding and sexual release. Each donor brought in knew the consequences of telling their secret. Their lives depended on the ability to keep their mouths shut. Mates were to be found among them.

Anton could only imagine what Kimber might think should she look upon him as he stood before India, ready to feed. The one time he had seduced the librarian into his bed, he had hypnotized her into forgetting his vampiric features. Foolhardy? Most certainly, but he couldn’t say he regretted a second of it.

Repeat performance slammed into his thoughts, causing an arrow of extreme hunger of another kind to shoot straight for his cock. Maybe he ought to quit being the good guy —
look where that had gotten him
. He certainly could use the release.

Every muscle in his body ached with the thought of getting Kimber back into his bed. Christ, he wanted to sink his cock deep into her, feel her surround him and make him forget the shitty hand he had been dealt. Anton hadn’t been exactly celibate over the past year. He had slept with a few of the Devils’ club bitches, but they held nothing on Kimber. Strip away the outer appearances and the little librarian turned into quite the fiery little nymph.

His biggest regret in this whole mess was letting her walk away when all he wanted to do was bed her again. Hell, he needed to fuck her from his thoughts. No good would come from his obsession. But even so, that didn’t stop him from wanting her.

India held out her hand and led Anton to the sofa in the corner of the room. He skirted the ottoman and sat, pulling the black-haired woman between his spread knees. Her gaze dropped to the bulge in his jeans. Blood lust easily caused the effect, but this hard-on had nothing to do with his hunger, and everything to do with his thoughts of the librarian.

Kimber was taboo.

He needed to get that through his thick skull.

This trip to Oregon had been a bad idea from the start. All it had accomplished thus far was his desire for Kimber returning with the force of a locomotive. And just like that locomotive, even if the brakes were applied, there was no stopping it on a dime. He’d need to find a way to exorcise her from his mind, no matter how long it took.

India’s gaze quickly darted away, no doubt misunderstanding the cause of his erection. He needed to ease her apprehension and get on with the communion. Not that India wasn’t beautiful, and maybe under different circumstances he wouldn’t have minded taking the feeding a step further.

But not today.

Only one woman would do.

With a growl of frustration, Anton cupped the back of India’s skull and titled her head to the side. The smell of her blood teased his nostrils. Anton opened his mouth wide and sank his fangs into her artery. The soft pop of her flesh carried to his ears. Warm blood ran over his tongue and coated his throat, filling him with heat and soothing the ache of hunger in his stomach.

India groaned, her body going languid in his grip. His hands smoothed down her spine, anchoring her to him. Her blood had a slightly different tinge than he remembered; he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. As he continued to take his fill, Anton missed India’s rising apprehension until she fisted the front of his tee shirt. He released his fangs with a hiss. Anton quickly sealed the twin holes with his tongue, the saliva having healing properties, and set her away from him.

His gaze took in India’s. Moisture gathered in her eyes. Damn, he was an ass. Gripping her chin between his forefinger and thumb, Anton tilted her face to his.

“I’m sorry, India. I never meant to make you uneasy.”

Her gaze dropped. “It’s me.”

“Has someone hurt you?”

“You don’t need me to unload my troubles on you, Blondy.” She took in a shaky breath before looking him in the eyes again. “You’re a good man. All the donors know you’re the Son with the biggest heart. Look at what you did for Tamera, holding her through her change when Gypsy had all but abandoned her.”

Her reminder soured his gut. “That may have been, India, but I’m not the same man I was a year ago.”

She snorted as if she didn’t believe it were possible.

“You really should stop referring to me as Blondy.” Even though she had fed him over the past year, knew he had deflected, she continued to treat him as if her were still a Son. “He’s dead.”

“Because of Gypsy and Tamera?”

“It would be easy enough to continue to blame them, but no. I’ve changed.”

Her gaze held his for a long moment, then she said, “You can fool the rest of them, but you don’t fool me. If you were the changed man you say you are — you would’ve tried to take advantage of the blood lust. You didn’t.”

She was astute. He’d give her that. To tell her he hungered for another woman and wouldn’t be crass enough to fuck her while he continued to do so would only solidify her argument the old Blondy was still somewhere in there.

He turned his lips down. “I needed to feed. That’s your reason for standing here. Fucking’s not part of the deal, unless the donor says it is. That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”

India smiled, despite the moisture still filling her gaze. “You can change your hair, hang with assholes, and try to fool everyone, Blondy—”

“It’s Rogue.”

“Rogue, whatever. You don’t fool me.” She placed a palm over his sternum. “I know inside here, there’s a man with a big heart. He’s still in there. What you did for Tamera, helping her through her change when Gypsy was being an ass, proved you’re a good man. Whatever’s going on with you, I hope you get it figured out. No matter what leaves your lips, I think there’s still a Son somewhere in here.” She tapped his chest.

His face heated. Anton couldn’t afford for her to trip up his game. He gripped her wrists and leaned down, his nose just inches from hers. “No one gives a fuck what you think, India, least of all me. You did your job, now take your nosy ass back into the bar and away from me.”

Tears slipped from her lashes. “Whatever,
Rogue
. Go back down the coast, if that’s what makes you feel better. Until you decide to be true to yourself, next time you need to feed? Request someone else.”

She yanked her wrists from his grip and headed for the door. Anton’s breath damn near stopped him dead. It wasn’t from India’s parting words, but the scent wafting through the opened door.

What the hell was Kimber James doing at the Rave?

Anton strode to the door and all but pulled it from its hinges. Fire slid through his veins as he caught sight of Grigore “Wolf” Lupei with his big ass paw on the small of her back, offering to buy her drink. Her gaze landed on his, pulling at his groin. Anton gritted his teeth just as Grigore’s angry glare found his.

“What the fuck, Rogue?” Alexander, the normally quiet Son, drew his attention briefly. Anton couldn’t help but wonder just what the hell his problem was.

Grigore frowned and his face turned ugly. “What the fuck are you looking at, boy?”

Kimber felt Anton’s eyes the moment they landed on her, heating her from the inside and making an already warm night damn near unbearable. He was the last person she expected to encounter at the Blood ‘n’ Rave. Yet, he filled the doorway on the other side of the polished bar, looking like a wet dream.

Two-hundred-and-fifty pounds of lean muscle.

And … black hair? Though the color and cut more than suited him, she couldn’t help wonder the reason.

A shiver traveled down her spine as his icy blue gaze raked over her, staying on her breasts a bit longer than appropriate before stopping at her waist and the hand now residing there. Kimber had been about to remove it when the over-friendly man rose to his feet, puffing his chest out. Moments ago, Tena had all but skipped off to the dance floor with said hot guy she came to meet. Wanting a margarita and not relishing the idea of standing alone near all the ravers, Kimber had approached the bar. Before she could place her order, the guy to her left, wearing a Sons of Sangue vest, had placed his hand on her person as if it were his right.

Although she was thankful for Anton’s sudden appearance, and being saved from having to remove the man’s hand, she now worried about being faced with an all-out war. The Sons of Sangue would not be happy to have a rival gang member standing on their turf. She had seen situations like these in documentaries. Guns, knives … out-and-out blood battles all over OMC territories.

Unsure what to do, other than save Anton from a beating the two Sons seemed ready to hand out, she skirted the bar. “There you are, honey.”

Anton’s dark brows met over the bridge of his nose as he looked down on her. “What—”

Kimber placed two fingers on his full lips, remembering all too well how they felt smoothing over her flesh and tasting every inch of her. Shaking off the erotic image, she needed to keep him from spoiling her brilliantly crafted ruse. She’d deal with the ramifications of it once she got him away from the threat of the rival gang.

“What the fuck are you doing here, boy?” The man who had taken liberties with her person spoke up again. His tone told Kimber she had been correct in her assessment. He meant to physically remove Anton from the premises if need be. “Rule is you don’t fucking come out here.”

“I suggest you mind your manners when a lady is present.”

“I think the lady is capable of speaking for herself.” The large man took a step in their direction. “You want to take it outside, Rogue?”

Anton’s taut cheek told Kimber he wasn’t about to back down. Before he could reply, she stood on her tiptoes and nipped his chin with her teeth. “What took you so long, babe?”