Vampire's Soul: A Vampire Queen Series Novel Page 2

  Instead, the wolf sank to an elbow, slowly, visibly fighting the compulsion. Then he was literally knocked to his side by those forces Cai couldn’t see. His head arched back and a strangled howl tore from his throat. He was struggling against something, with a determined ferocity that told Cai it might be harder to take his dinner from the wolf than he’d anticipated.

  Cai drew closer, and the wolf’s eyes focused on him, crazed, despairing. Furious. Cai stopped. One of the two golden eyes was now blue. Cobalt blue, with a dark ring around it that enhanced the size of the pupil. The other iris stayed sunlight gold. Then both eyes closed and the animal convulsed, body rippling as if water moved under the skin. Cai heard the crack of bone and the wolf snarled, pain and frustration.

  Holy shit… It couldn’t be. A fucking shifter.

  There were rumors of their existence, so unsubstantiated they could be called fairy tales. Yet being a vampire, and knowing that a lot of what humans called imaginary creatures could exist, Cai wasn’t in the habit of asserting something couldn’t, just because he hadn’t seen it. Even so, he’d never heard of anyone who’d seen a wolf shifter.

  He was seeing one now.

  The transformation energy cocooned the wolf like rope, tightening, pulling his body in multiple directions. If every shift was this brutal, Cai had no idea why any wolf shifter would do so voluntarily, and maybe they didn’t. But he had to wonder if the wolf’s obvious resistance to the transition was making it even more excruciating.

  Maybe he thought he was more vulnerable to Cai in that form. He probably was, but…

  Cai drew closer. The wolf seemed almost insensible to him now, so he dropped to his heels next to him and laid a hand on his fur. The covering felt much thinner, like a silk scarf instead of a thick pelt. That scarf was about to tear.

  The magic coiled around the shifter snapped away, striking Cai with stinging heat before it dis-apparated the wolf. The shift had seemed gradual, torturous, but then, in a final blink, there he was. Cai was staring at a man lying against the corpse of another, their blood mixed together and soaking the earth beneath them.

  Fuck.

  Cai’s gaze traveled over the shifter. As a wolf, he’d been as big as a black bear. As a human, he kept the same impressive build. Long brown hair tangled over broad shoulders, his wide chest covered with a temptingly thick mat of gleaming chestnut hair that arrowed down to cock and balls, tree trunk thighs. In the naked male’s position, sprawled on one hip, Cai had a good view of his ass.

  An ass worth saving, noted his dick.

  Why hadn’t the wolf just shifted to human when he was out of range of the hunter’s sight? When the hunter stumbled on the wolf in wounded human form, he might have been curious about why the shifter was naked, but guilt over thinking one of his bullets might have missed his supposed bear and hit a camper would have made him set questions aside, and aid the wounded male.

  Maybe shifters considered hospitals and doctors pretty much out of the question. Like vampires, their anatomy probably didn’t exactly line up with humans.

  But reviewing the evidence of the past few moments, Cai decided that wasn’t why the shifter had let things play out the way they had. He’d wanted the hunter to catch up to him. He’d wanted to take him out. Cai remembered the look in the wolf’s eyes as he’d sprung. He’d wanted the fight.

  “Take my blood, vampire,” the male growled. His voice was rough, broken. “Take all of it. I’m dying. Might as well finish it.”

  Well, vampires might not have realized wolf shifters existed, but this one knew enough about vampires to identify one. Cai had no idea what shifter blood would do to a vampire, but it smelled just as appetizing as the human’s. More so. Cai didn’t spend a lot of time worrying over those things. If he died from drinking it, he died. No great loss, as long as it was his choice.

  That was the philosophy he saw in the shifter’s eyes now. He knew he was dying, and he wanted it to happen according to his own terms. He’d taken out the predator who’d gotten him first, and he’d given the vampire permission to drink from him, despite knowing he could do little to stop Cai. It was another point of pride, like defending his prey against Cai when he could barely stand on his four feet.

  A lot of balls on this one. Literally. Cocking his head, Cai gave them a leisurely look.

  The shifter noticed him noticing. Cai stiffened as a hand that could probably palm a cantaloupe reached for his face, but there was no harm in it. The male brushed bloodstained fingers over Cai’s lips and his own mouth curved in a humorless smile. Even bloody and dirty, those lips were appealingly firm, enhanced by the layer of biker-guy-sexy stubble on the strong jaw. He wound his fingers in Cai’s hair, nowhere near as long as the wolfman’s, but long enough to take a good grip, and he put pressure there.

  “There’s nothing else once the dark closes in. We both know it. Give me something good before there’s nothing.”

  Under the rusty quality, his voice had a melodic, deep woods hillbilly kind of sound, and Cai’s ears reacted to it like his taste buds did to fresh, heated blood. Cai was pretty sure he knew what the male meant, but the shifter removed all doubt when somehow he lifted his dying, bleeding body enough to wrap his arm around Cai’s shoulders and bring his mouth close. Cai caught up, cupping the back of his head, tangling his fingers in brown hair as thick and soft as the wolf’s pelt. He tightened his grip.

  “Hold still, and I will,” he ordered, meeting his gaze. As a human, both the shifter’s eyes were blue, with gold flecks and a gold ring around them. Extraordinary and mesmerizing. Full of dull pain and raging need. The pain wasn’t from his wounds. Cai knew that kind of pain, the empty agony of a loneliness well beyond fixing.

  However, in response to Cai’s order to be still, the shifter’s lips curled in an appealing sneer which teased Cai’s dominant instincts to bust-your-ass level. Even so, he wasn’t going to deny a dying man. Not when the request served his own interests.

  He brought his mouth to the other man’s, stopped just short and stared into those feral eyes. “What’s your name?” Cai didn’t question why he wanted to know, but when the guy died, he wanted to remember him. Wanted to think of him with a name attached.

  “Rand.”

  “Easy enough. Cai.”

  No need to be tentative or gentle about it, and that wasn’t what the wolf wanted anyway. When Cai brought his mouth against those appealing lips, strong fingers dug into Cai’s shoulders. The sound the male made in Cai’s mouth was so split between human and animal, Cai’s cock hardened to lead pipe from the first touch.

  Hellfire… Yeah, there might not be anything after, but that was because somebody had tipped divine flame out of the heavens and given it all to this male’s mouth. Cai’s blood hunger disappeared, swallowed by a far different kind of greed. He didn’t give a damn what was offered willingly beyond the kiss. He was going to have it all.

  Heat. A slick agile tongue that played with Cai’s fangs in a provocative way no dying man should have been cognizant enough to do. But hell, if the guy was dying, what better thing was there to spend his energy toward? His hands slid over Cai’s hair, his neck, his shoulders, down to his biceps and gripped him as if he wouldn’t ever let go. Cai broke that grip and pushed him to his back, away from the hunter and against the brown earth. He stretched over him so he could clasp his rough jaw and throat and kiss him as deep and long as he desired. He allowed the male to latch onto his upper arm and side with either hand, but the position made it clear Cai was the one in control.

  He saw the flame of need and lust in Rand’s blue eyes. As well as a hopeless surrender that tore into Cai’s chest and opened wounds he kept closed with the help of solitude and regular doses of violence.

  Sex could be violent.

  It was only when he clutched the male’s hip with possessive demand, and the shifter stiffened, that Cai remembered. Hell, he was mortally wounded.

  Well, fuck that. This bastard was living, even if Cai had to turn him in
to a vampire to do it. He adjusted his hold to the male’s cock, fingers wrapping around it. Despite his injuries, hell, it was semi-erect. Even at half-mast, there was way more than a handful to play with. The blue eyes darkened, a flash of surprise among the simmering ferocity. “You aren’t dying,” Cai said. “Your ass belongs to me.”

  Sparks of rebellion delivered a straightforward fuck-you message, and then the wolf shifter lost consciousness.

  Chapter Two

  The heat of the day had finally been swallowed by the night. Rand felt the touch of Dylef’s hand. They would shift and run together tonight. Hunt for Sheba and their pups.

  No. No, they wouldn’t. Dylef was dead. They were dead. He imagined the young ones’ fear. It had all happened so fast, they hadn’t totally understood. He hoped. But when he was human, it was on constant replay in his mind, a never-ending torture session. It was why he’d stayed a wolf for so long. But not long enough. He was still alive, goddamn it.

  Why the hell was he still alive?

  Because I wanted you to be. It’s your own fault.

  Rand stiffened. He was used to the endless monologue of his own internal voice, an unwelcome intruder that never shut the hell up except when he was in wolf form. Which…he wasn’t. It felt strange, his human body like ill-fitting clothing. He needed to shift, wanted to shift.

  “Oh no you don’t.” It was a rebuke and command, and reinforced by a firm caress along his abdomen. That unexpected sensation, a humanoid touch on his humanoid flesh, effectively pulled his attention away from his unwelcome state like fresh raw meat did when he was ravenous.

  “Yeah, blood’s like that, too. Yours is potent, wolf. But I want something else right now.”

  A strong hand, more powerful than twenty of the brawny hunter he’d fought, clasped his throat. It tightened just enough to shoot his attention to his cock and make him realize it was stiffening, despite his weakened state. The vampire put his mouth over his.

  Rand remembered this. Just before he thought he was going to die. Demanding, uncompromising, unsympathetic. The vampire hadn’t given a damn about his condition. He’d taken what was offered and given back. Enough that Rand grudgingly remembered a fleeting spark in his soul, a reaction to finding one damn thing to regret about leaving this life behind.

  The vampire’s tongue was teasing his, the fangs scraping his lip. Rand growled and tried to pull him down on top of him. He wanted to feel his body against him. But as he did, pain seared through him, like an iron shoved through his thigh and side. He clutched the vampire’s bare shoulder, and a growl became a low snarl.

  “Yeah, ease back. Might be a little soon to get that aggressive. But you’re healing good. The second mark isn’t as strong for self-healing as the third, but it gave you the edge you needed to put off death for another day. And I wasn’t in the mood to link our souls for all eternity, no matter how great an ass you have.”

  Rand opened his eyes. They were still in the forest, though a sufficient enough distance from where he’d killed the hunter that anyone coming to look for the man wouldn’t stumble on this camp. Not that he suspected that posed a danger to either of them. Between vampire and wolf senses, nothing human had a chance of sneaking up on them.

  He vaguely remembered the vampire over him before. Jeans and hiking shoes, a dark-colored T-shirt. The smell of cotton and denim, the leather of his belt, faint soap smells over skin and hair. Earth scent was embedded in the fanged creature, telling Rand he was also a forest-dweller. Most vampires he’d heard about, or sensed when he’d been in the city, preferred to be a shadowy part of the human world to take advantage of the comforts of that civilization. Not this one.

  Rand could paint a picture with scent alone, but in his human form he added to it with sight. It wasn’t a chore. As he swiveled his gaze in that direction, he saw the vampire wore nothing, making Rand’s already dry throat drier, particularly as the male rose and moved to the small fire.

  He was tall, tall as Rand. Since all vampires were reputedly a seduction to the senses, it was no surprise to see he was pleasing to look upon. But the sharp need that jammed itself through Rand’s balls and up into his cock like a railroad spike didn’t want to argue about how much of the desire came from Rand, and how much from the vampire’s effect on any humanoid that could feel lust.

  He should be near death, with no thoughts to spare on sex. Yet he couldn’t take his eyes from calves, thighs, ass, back and shoulders. The muscle groups were a twisting, flowing, rippling sculpture that made Rand want to dig into the clay. Mark it. There was a scar on the vampire’s shoulder, an unusual thing, since their self-healing powers were absolute, as far as Rand knew. But it was as if a grenade had been shoved into an open wound and allowed to detonate. The scarring formed a splattering over his shoulders, circling that one deep, oblong scar. It looked like a sun throwing off scattered rays.

  The vampire’s clothes hung from a tree branch close to a small fire. The T-shirt was a darker shade than Rand remembered. Dampness. Since the vampire had moved Rand, he’d likely stained his clothes with blood, and they’d needed washing. Rand vaguely remembered the digging probe and fiery burn of a knife blade, and suspected the vampire had cauterized the bullet wound after removing the projectile.

  He also remembered something odd… It was probably fever, but when the vampire had removed the bullet, he’d cupped his palm over the wound and there’d been something…an energy. Rand knew the touch of what others might call healing magic. This had been sort of like that, but not. He couldn’t grasp it. He was still far too fuzzy.

  No vampire he’d ever heard about had healing powers, or any magical powers at all. Not like a witch or sorcerer. Vampires seemed too arrogant a race to believe in the power of magic. They believed in their hunting skills; speed, strength, and some ability to entrance their prey, through seduction or other hypnotic means. And—referring back to the arrogance—they believed they were at the top of the food chain in the mortal realms. No argument from Rand…if that conversation didn’t involve shifters.

  The male turned away from checking the clothes. One glittering eye was visible under a fall of dark hair. It wasn’t long, not even quite to his shoulders, but it had an unruliness to it that tempted touch. Rand remembered clutching it to draw him close.

  “Mark me, hmm?” the vampire murmured. “So it’s that way. Alpha of your pack, aren’t you? Making everyone toe the line.”

  Dylef. Sheba. The pups. Maple, Cira, Teague…Shy.

  The pain that stabbed him this time was ten times worse than the throb in his leg and side. A bullet and a knife couldn’t compete with the loss.

  “Thank…” He cleared his throat. The words were strange in his mouth. He didn’t want them to sound human. But there was no other way to communicate what was needed.

  “Good now. You can move on.”

  “Maybe you should say it the way you wanted to say it. ‘Go the fuck away.’ Right?”

  The male came and squatted over him. With Rand on his back, it was a dominant position he didn’t particularly care for. A human wouldn’t know, not consciously. But from the flicker in this vampire’s gaze as Rand stared up at him, the bloodsucker sure as hell understood the cues, and likely demanded submission from anyone that wasn’t him. Yeah, that wasn’t happening, even if he was wounded.

  “Okay. Go the fuck away.” He stumbled over the unfamiliar exercise of human speech, but he managed enough to be understood.

  Fangs bared in a grim smile. One of them wasn’t a fang. Well, it was shaped like one, but it was metal, a sharp, curved point, crudely but effectively wired to the adjacent ones. His inability to retract it was probably what gave his bottom lip the faint scar. It never had the chance to heal before it was cut again, and it had given up and callused over. Rand remembered the sense of it when it was upon his own mouth, an intriguingly different texture.

  The vampire had daylight clear blue eyes. They were a striking contrast with the coal color of his brows and hair, dark a
s the forces behind those eyes, like the storm that had been closing in on them before the hunter came for his supposed prey. That was another reason the vampire might be drying out his clothes. Rand smelled the lingering scent of fallen rain.

  His face had the same sculpted quality as his body. Strong, well-formed. All of it had persuaded Rand to touch, to stroke, do what he’d thought was going to be his last act on this cursed earth.

  “That’s why I said it was your fault you’re alive. If you’d just puked up your guts and lost your bowels, like most dying bastards, I would have let you have your merciful end. But you decided to show me just how worthwhile it would be to keep you around.”

  “You’re not keeping me at all,” Rand said. He glanced down at himself. “I don’t see any chains.”

  He was as naked as the other male, something that made his brainless cock even more eager, hardening against his abdomen. What the hell? In his current state, the damn thing was going to make him pass out.

  The vampire’s gaze slid to it. Vampires were known for their ambivalence about sexual preference, the sex itself the driving factor, not the gender with whom it was indulged.

  Rand would have preferred that, because it could be another step toward treating the male’s interest as purely physical, opportunistic. Easier to dismiss. But this vampire looked at him and kissed as if he had a distinct preference for his own sex. Just as Rand did.

  “Chains are an intriguing idea,” the irritating male commented. “Not out here, though.”

  Rand narrowed his gaze. “Am I your prisoner, vampire?”

  “Not at all.” He rose and returned to the fire. For the first time—proving how disoriented he still was—Rand noticed a pair of rabbits spitted and cooking over it.

  “Know you prefer it fresh and raw as a wolf, but in your human form I suspected it was best not to take the chance of you getting sick off raw meat. Especially with you already running a fever from those wounds. Like I said, the second mark called you back from death, but it won’t heal you without normal bumps in the road for mortal flesh. Though I don’t know much about shifter healing ability; if it’s any better than human.”