Wordless: new adult paranormal romance (Age of Blood Book 1) (3 page)

Someone opened the passenger door up front, and the young stranger got in, before turning to her and flashing her a threatening, predatory smile that made her flinch.

Ok, maybe she wasn’t
that
stupid; her alarm bells worked just fine with that guy.

Then, the door next to her opened and she went right back to drooling and questioning her sanity.

“Done crying?”

Her eyes widened; had she really be
crying?
Fay didn’t do the whole weeping thing; it wasn’t worth it. If her master had heard of it and been displeased, she might have earned a punishment.

A lot of girls got punished in Vincent’s home – but not her. She knew just how to behave.

Fay nodded, and he got in, sitting down on the other side; then the car started and pulled away.

The silence was quite uncomfortable; after a while, the ancient broke it.

He removed his jacket first, before rolling one sleeve; then unexpectedly, he bit down his own forearm.

Fay had never seen a vampire doing anything like it before; she watched his self-mutilation with a morbid interest, captivated, until he caught her at it.

Look down,
she told herself. She knew she should have looked down.

She didn’t, meeting his eyes head on instead. They’d gone back to sky blue, rather than the dark hue they’d adopted earlier. In both cases, they were pretty mesmerizing, which explained why she just couldn’t stop gawking.

The ancient must have been used to keeping girls spellbound, because he just smiled before extending his muscular forearm towards her. 

“Suck me,” he said with a smile.

She’d heard that order before. Fay couldn’t help glancing down towards his dress pants, although he’d meant something very different – and weirdly, she felt it was even more decadent.

“Why?”

What was
wrong
with her today?

The word was hesitant, weak, barely audible, but she’d said it nonetheless, and there was no taking it back.

The appropriate response should have been to shut up, open her mouth, and suck. Questioning her master wasn’t her place.

Why had she?

Because you know you can get away with it.

Fay knew the theory was true as soon as her mind hazarded it. She wasn’t sure what it said about her. Was she a brat at heart? The idea almost made her chuckle, and a small, wayward smile did escape her.

The ancient grinned in response, before shocking her by actually giving her an answer.

“You have a few recent wounds, and my blood will heal you. I’m surprised you don’t know that?”

She’d had access to a computer, but her history had been monitored, so she hadn’t been free to research everything she would have liked to know; still, like anyone, she was on Facebook and there were plenty of groups where she’d read rumors.

The healing property of vampire blood had been mentioned; but she took things she read online with a pinch of salt. Hell, some swore vampires could read minds, fly, predict the future – and a whole lot of stupid stuff they’d probably picked up from paranormal romance, rather than facts.

“Then again, it’s not
that
unexpected,” he amended. “Drinking from a vampire will make your blood taste differently – probably not as refined. Temporarily, of course.”

Fay had to stop herself from snorting; no wonder Vincent had never bothered to heal any of them, then.

She dropped her lips on his gash and, as she was instructed, sucked. Her grimace was immediate; it tasted salty, rusty, and not that great. Like blood, in short.

For some reason though, she felt moisture
pool
between her legs. It was all she could do to stop herself from begging for an orgasm.

Apparently, she should have paid more attention to the gossips. What she’d read about the aphrodisiac properties of vampire blood was also true.

Healing took all of ten heartbeats. Every recent bite on her skin burnt, submitting her to an abrupt, unanticipated, and scorching hot pain so acute she screamed out loud; and then, there was nothing.

She looked down at her skin and gasped. For the first time in years, it was completely devoid of puncture marks.

They’d never scarred her; the vampires just grazed her. Cece, however, was covered in huge, dark, ugly scars. Fay fought the knot in her throat that always formed when she thought of her cousin.

Cece didn’t like her all that much, and Fay felt too much pity towards her for them to have built a relationship, but she still was her only family.

“Thank you.”

Another new thing; she’d never had a reason to thank a vampire before. Sure, she’d had to
say
it. But for the first time, it was heartfelt. 

“Don’t mention it. Now come here.”

That was it. He’d bite her now. She obeyed with an alacrity she was
not
putting down to eagerness.

To her surprised, however, his hand didn’t dip into her dress; no, instead, it went to her neck, to the collar she continuously wore, even in the shower. There was a lock on it, but the vampire simply tore through the leather and metal, effortlessly.

“There. Much better.”

Fay was staring, dumbstruck. Where was the replacement? The collar with his name on it?

Then, she thought that perhaps he didn’t have it on him today. Still, why had he already removed her old one? No one would know she was a slave, now.

“Now that’s sorted, how about you tell me what you know of Adrian Klein.”

Three

Vincent had just asked for a million, which had reinforced his first opinion: the guy wasn’t all that bright. In New York City, a virgin’s first fuck could easily be sold for that, at least. Twice as much in L.A. – they were even harder to come by. As an untouched AB neg, little Fay was priceless.

Regardless, William would have paid ten times that just to get any sort of info on Adrian. Everyone he was associated with was tight lipped, because they knew what kind of retaliation they invited if the ruthless lord ever heard that they’d betrayed him.

The girl knew something; the way her heartbeat had sped up when she’d heard Vincent’s lie had revealed that much.

William didn’t doubt he might have wasted his cash, her info was likely to be irrelevant, but he was ready to take the risk. And to be frank? There was a good chance he would have purchased her anyway. He always tried to get some innocent out of the way, before the shit hit the fan.

Now that he had witnessed what happened in Vincent’s home, he was going to report him. Normally, an investigator would have come out to check the allegations, but William was a Drake: his word was all that was needed.

They were busy, so it wasn’t going to be right away, but in a month or two a clearing crew would be sent out to apprehend Vincent and his goons, and free the humans in his home.

Sounds great, right?

Well, it wasn’t – for the servants and slaves, anyway. In most cases, over half of the humans died during raids, generally killed by their masters. They probably thought that they were wiping the evidence by silencing those who could serve as witness against them.

William couldn’t save them all without alerting the rogues of his intention to file a report, and he couldn’t afford to mess up his investigations that way; especially this time.

Nothing was going to get in the way of his search for Adrian.

William and Adrian had been friends until very recently; that bridge had crashed, burnt, and gone to hell when the man had disappeared with one of his protégé’s sons.

Some vampires liked to brag about how many humans they had under their thumbs; William had no need to. When he felt like showing off, he introduced himself. That being said, he did protect a fair few humans. Amongst them, there was one family he particularly cared about: almost every human with a drop of Gardiner blood had voluntarily entered his service, for five generations. They were loyal to him and he had their back – simple as that.

No sane vampire would have messed with any of them, yet they’d found the nineteen-year-old Gardiner boy’s corpse six weeks ago. The state of the remains, he’d rather never think of. Mutilated didn’t even begin to cover it.

Amongst other injuries, there had been countless bites, and the entire corps reeked of Adrian.

Everyone knew Adrian had particular tastes, but it hadn’t been that – or not
just
that, in any case. Adrian was playing with witches; of that, William was sure. The boy had been a seventh son; no one was interested in seventh sons, save for witches.

They’d been an issue since the takeover. Witches had loved it back when humans had been in control, because manipulating mortals determined to ignore anything they found even remotely impossible had been a piece of cake – humans just refused to believe someone could have cursed them, so they used half-cooked scientific explanations rather than just pointing their fingers at a person they’d pissed off. Now the Witches had to answer for their actions.

The shifters were no better; they’d had no issue obeying random human rules about hunting and other matters, but bowing to a vampire wasn’t an option, in their opinion.

William knew there would be a war, eventually – a significant one, this time. Adrian was a loose cannon in this world. He had friends amongst shifters, witches, and vampires alike – no one could really tell where his allegiance lay.

If Adrian’s actions were a precursor to a bigger problem, they needed to know it as soon as possible.

“He isn’t very nice,” Fay replied, her gaze on her knees.

That got his attention.

“What has he done to you?”

“Not much,” she replied dismissively. “I’m not to his taste.”

She knew Adrian, alright.

“But the guys at the house… they don’t come out of the infirmary for days after his visits. One has died.”

Needless to say, Vincent hadn’t reported any human death attributed to vampires.

William was yet again struck afresh by the stupidity of the council.

Those rejects no one wished to deal with had been banished to faraway towns, instead of being kept close; they needed constant supervision, dammit. Submitting defenseless humans to their rules was a show of supreme foolishness.

Thankfully, Michael agreed. He sent out Knights and huntsmen everywhere there were rumors of mistreatments. Abusive lords were imprisoned for a minimum of a year and after passing their rehabilitation assessments, they lived under strict surveillance until they’d proven themselves wiser. Those who crossed the line were killed on spot.

From what he’d seen, Vincent wasn’t as bad as some… but he would have loved nothing more than to see him burn regardless.

“When was the last time you saw him?” he asked, trying to get his head back in the game.

“About a couple of weeks ago. He was in a hurry; just in and out.”

Brilliant. It meant the asshole might be cocky enough to still be in the country. Not that a few thousand miles would have made much of a difference, but going oversea meant dealing with other Covens. Not all of them would welcome his interference in their domain.

Politics. His favorite thing, right after self-flagellation and fang extraction. 

“He said there was a pit-bull on his ass, that he was going to lay low for a while, but he told Vincent their agreement still stood. I don’t know what that means.”

William couldn’t believe his ears.

“You were in the room?”

She shrugged.

“Whenever a guest arrives, I’m required to stay in the next room, in case I’m needed. I’m
supposed
to listen, because Vincent might call,” she said quickly, as if to justify her eavesdropping.

William wasn’t exactly complaining.

Hell. He really couldn’t believe Vincent had been stupid enough to sell her. If William had been a conniving, spineless little shit, he would have kept her close at all times. But then again, he was smart.

Considering that revelation, it was a really good thing he’d gotten her out of there. She would have been the first to be slaughtered, at the signs of a raid. 

“I need you to think hard and tell me
everything
you remember about any conversation they ever had.”

Fay couldn’t help it: she yawned after a while. Her throat was getting pretty dry; she’d talked for what felt like hours – something she wasn’t used to.

Yet, she did so eagerly, delighted at the prospect of betraying Vincent and perhaps even making things difficult for Adrian in the process. Dangerous, but exhilarating.

She had a good memory, and Adrian’s visits were accompanied with so much anxiety, it was the last thing she might forget, so she had a lot to say.

“Enough of this for tonight,” the ancient told her when she resumed explaining about the time when Vincent had exchanged a boy of his for a girl of Adrian’s. “It’s almost dawn, and you’ve given me plenty of ammunition. Go to sleep, if you can. We have another five or six hours to go.”

Then, he handed her his expensive, crisp jacket, and she wrapped it around her shoulders.

Inhaling a mix of musk, cologne, and a faint spicy scent she couldn’t place, she fell asleep and dreamt of being fucked; hardly a new turn of events.

This time, though, her lover wasn’t faceless.

This time, it wasn’t exactly a nightmare.

When they stopped for fuel, William bought a blanket for his pocket size sleeping beauty, knowing his light jacket probably didn’t cut it.

Their kind preferred the cold, and he’d stopped himself from demanding that Jessica raised the temperature in the car.

Jess wasn’t a problem, but Mark might be. He knew his type: made less than twenty years ago, he wanted to prove himself, and went about it completely the wrong way. Eventually, he’d try to piss him off, to show that he was a big bad vampire who wasn’t impressed by anyone and all that. Which was fine; children
needed
to push their elders’ buttons to understand the rules of the game. William just didn’t want to give him a reason to mark the vulnerable girl as a way to get to him.

However, he soon realized he already had.

“I get why you got all possessive, by the way,” Mark chuckled, following him around while he was browsing the petrol station’s kiosk to stretch his legs. “That chick is one hot piece of ass.”

It seemed he hadn’t caught on, yet.

“Do I need to remind you of that girl’s name, Mark?” William replied.

The soldier swallowed, rightly assuming that the reminder wouldn’t be more pleasant than the first time he’d introduced them.

“Fay is under my protection. You know how I treat those who harm the mortals I’ve pledged to look after.”

On that note, he went to pay, gently tapping Mark’s shoulder as he passed him by.

The kid wasn’t that bad; he just had a lot of maturing to do. Turning twenty-year-olds was frowned upon for that very reason; it took them a long time to stop acting like unruly children.

William sighed when he heard the light steps trailing him on his way out. 

Jessica wasn’t a threat, but she could be nosier than a pack of bored housewives.

She walked next to him, staring at him and grinning like a Cheshire cat, until he broke down.

“Just say what you have to say so we can move the fuck on.”

“Six months.”

His left eyebrow waggled a fraction; whatever that was, it almost sounded like a challenge and… well, he kind of liked those.

“I give you six months until you announce you’re taking her as your consort.”

He chuckled. She was obviously losing her touch.

Jess’s dares were generally impossible to win – one of the main reasons why he’d kept her around for over a century.

This time, she was off her rocker.

“Laugh all you want. You obviously haven’t tasted her blood yet. Or her pussy, for that matter. Jeez, the girl is
sweet.
”

What the hell was it with his underlings pushing his limits these days?

A while back, no one so much as
talked
when he entered a room. He guessed the fact that they were all bound by stupid rules had given others a false sense of security; they’d figured that he wouldn’t just eviscerate someone. Now he had to justify his actions.

They were wrong. He’d still cut a throat without so much as an afterthought for a valid reason; and protecting – or avenging – innocents was as valid as it got.