Home > The Bitten (Vampire Huntress Legend #4)(35)

The Bitten (Vampire Huntress Legend #4)(35)
Author: L.A. Banks

Only a millimeter in, he withdrew from the bite, as he entered her agonizingly slow, kissing the nick at her neck. Then he kissed her hard, pulled back to look into her eyes. She ran her tongue over her fangs and she tried to catch her breath. He smiled and closed his eyes.

"Yeah, baby, now you're ready."

She felt herself falling, his arms tight around her as her back met red satin sheets. Crimson rose petals stuck to her legs, the aroma making her heady, his touch now bold and firm. His eyes flickered in the dancing torchlight as he looked down at her. She could feel perspiration dampen his back, and she arched into him, hoping he would take her quickly.

The strike was so sudden, so hard, it made colors dance behind her lids. Her body convulsed as he penetrated her once again. He was in so deep that she could taste her own blood in her mouth. He'd found that elusive spot and stroked it over and over again. She dug her nails into the smooth, hard globes of his ass.

Every muscle in his back worked in harmony with her breath-chants, his thighs pushing them up the bed, dangerously near a marble post. He reached out, not breaking stride, and slid them away from it.

She sobbed his name in refrain and he pulled out of the bite, threw his head back, tears streaming down his face. Now she understood.

Offering her his throat, even while he continued to lunge against her, she knew what he needed. His anticipation of her bite made his breaths become ragged. The moment her mouth neared his neck, she could feel him begin to shudder. She leaned up and licked the sensitive surface of his neck and he moaned. The sound of his voice convulsed her womb. They struck at the same moment. Blinding pleasure almost made it impossible to siphon. Every convulsion that ripped through him entered her, recycling itself back to him with her heat contained within it.

She could barely breathe and had to pull up. Her heart felt like a tight fist was crushing it - the waves of ecstasy were so intense. But his tortured plea not to stop now brought her mouth to his throat again.

A prolonged wail traveled up his torso, entered her veins though his bite, made him seek air, refuge from the sensory overload. Carlos's fingers raked the sheets, shredding them in the wake, while she tightened her legs and arms around him and tried to hold on.

Carlos dropped his head to her shoulder, his face burning, hair soaked, breathing erratic. All she could do was pet away the shudders until his body stopped jerking.

Chapter Nine

THE glare of harsh hospital lamps made him squint as he came to. Berkfield immediately tried to sit up, but realized instantly that his hands and feet were strapped to a cold metal table. He tried to cry out, but his vocal cords were frozen. White-masked men in green surgeon's gowns peered down at him.

"Is the key ready?" an eerily distant, accented voice asked.

One of the masked men around the table nodded and held up a huge needle containing a silvery red fluid. Terror seized Berkfield as he stared at the epidural-sized syringe. He shook his head no, wildly resisting in vain. That only produced strange, out-of-body laughter from an unknown source within the sterile lab.

"Inject him," the voice said. "Then bring him to my chambers for the ritual."

Seated comfortably in the rec room around the poker table, seven guardians sat in a circle, hands joined, eyes closed. Four members of the Covenant stood watch, each positioned in the four earth directions, north, south, east, and west. The men at the Guardians' backs kept vigil to prevent evil from attacking from all directions, murmuring prayers in different languages. Marlene's mouth moved, her silent meditation calling down the Light to watch over them, requesting discernment to open their eyes, to sharpen their gifts, and to locate their baby girl.

"I can't see her and I can't feel her," Marlene said quietly, her voice tight with frustration, "and I've been trying for nearly an hour."

Beads of sweat dotted her brow, and she dabbed at the offending moisture with the back of her forearm, not breaking the human circle.

"They're obviously blinding both the seers in the group to their whereabouts," Father Patrick said. "But they can't block all of us."

Marlene nodded. "We'll have to track them through a back door. If one of the other members at the table can pick up a sensitivity, then we might have a chance. One of us will eventually feel their vibrations, or hear them, perhaps pick up a scent."

"Up to now, Marlene, you've been trying to get an immediate sightline on them. Let's see if we can redirect that energy to the olfactory sensors, or the tacticals. Maybe Mike can hear something that will clue us in?"

"It's worth a shot, Mar," Rider said. "If Jose and I can pick up some kinda tracer, then Father Pat's crew can trail it. We'll talk them through on walkie-talkie while keeping the circle connection going."

"All right, people," Marlene said on a weary sigh. "Let's clear our thoughts, stretch our minds. We know she mentioned a lair in Beverly Hills, so envision the environment, the surroundings, the streets, feel the trees, and see the colors, close your eyes, open up your minds, hear the traffic, smell the freshly cut lawns, let your gifts guide you and send those impressions to each other then to me."

Only the sound of deep, steady inhales could be heard. Air-conditioner compressors around the compound hummed in the distance. A wall clock ticked ever so slightly. Water from a faucet in the next room dripped.

Then Jose breathed in deeply and tilted his head at the same moment Father Lopez did.

"Talk to us, Jose," Marlene said, her voice low, melodic, calm. "Impression... scent?"

Jose took a deeper breath and squeezed Rider's hand harder. "Smells so good," he murmured.

"Rider," Marlene said, keeping the group steady, "you picking up?"

"No, Mar. The young buck got this one. I'm not picking up anything."

When Jose shuddered, everyone opened their eyes and stared at him.

"Stay focused everybody, keep hands joined, stay relaxed. Jose, where are you?"

A palpable tension could be felt in the room. The squat white candle in the center of the ring of hands sputtered and flickered as an energy charged the atmosphere around it.

"I don't know, but shit."

"Are you hurt?" Marlene asked quickly, but her voice was still low and controlled.

"No," Jose murmured.

"Are you by yourself?"

He shook his head no. His breathing deepened as his T-shirt became damp from sweat.

   
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