Kyn Series Page 7

She stepped out from the stall and reached for the towels. Wrapping the larger one around her body, she blotted the water from her hair with the smaller one and headed back out into the changing room.

  She got less than three steps. Hard hands closed on her even as she started to turn. In the next instant, she found herself pinned against the wall by a hard male body. The impact drove the breath from her lungs as a familiar scent filled her nostrils and sent her senses haywire.

  “You seem to be going to some lengths to avoid me blondie,” Kalen’s voice close to her ear kicked her body into high awareness, “Any particular reason for that?”

  “Kalen, let go of me you bloody idiot. I thought you were an intruder.” She struggled against his hold. The way he had her pinned, one arm twisted up behind her back, and a booted foot kicking her bare feet farther apart, meant she couldn’t get any leverage to fight back. She recognized the hold. It was one they used on patrol if they found any Kyn youngsters out and about and up to no good.

  She was a strong woman, but even she couldn’t break this one. It was designed to hold a much larger opponent immobile. Not that she was bigger than Kalen, but she could hold her own in a fight and he knew it. Vixen fought hard and dirty.

  Being held down wasn’t the worst of it, though. Her body tightened at his touch and a moist heat slipped from between her thighs. Hot color flooded her cheeks. She couldn’t be turned on by this, could she? It was embarrassing. She closed her eyes as she bit her lip…very hot.

  “Not until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me, and why you ran out on me the other night.” He pressed harder to quell her struggles. Hard enough she felt every solid plane of muscle in his body. And a growing hardness pressing into her ass that proved, like her, he wasn’t immune to the situation.

  “Other night?” Her voice was innocent as she wriggled to test his hold on her. It gained her a growl, an unusual feral sound that should have warned her.

  “Don’t play games with me, blondie. I might take you up on it and I don’t think you’d like the games I want to play.” His warm breath fanned over her neck and cheek with the threat, making her body clench with need. “Now,” he added, his voice ominously low, “That kiss…”

  Despite the warning, Vixen couldn’t resist playing with fire. “What kiss?”

  “Dammit, Vixen, don’t do this.” Kalen’s voice sounded thick with fury as he released her long enough to spin her around to face him, then pinned her back against the wall. His dark-eyed gaze blazed into hers. “If you don’t remember, maybe I should remind you…”

  Fear struck her. She couldn’t let him do that. She was fighting a losing battle. Not to get free of his hold, but not to throw herself at him either. Only his hold stopped her. If he kissed her, the slight resistance she’d mustered would crumble into dust.

  “Don’t bother.” She flashed her fangs warningly.

  “Unless you plan on using them, blondie, put them away. No one likes a tease. ” His voice dropped to a dangerous growl. His hand shot out, wound into the hair at her nape and held her still as his lips descended, covering hers in a kiss that was all about punishment and anger.

  Tears prickled in the backs of her eyes as she struggled, struggles that only served to increase his determination. In desperation, she did the only thing she could and nipped his lip. The rich, sweet taste of his blood—the blood of an ancient vampire—exploded on her tongue. She moaned, another need swirling darkly within her as his groan joined hers. The kiss changed, his tongue sweeping into her mouth in a sensual exploration that filled every cell in her body with pleasure.

  Lost in the myriad of other sensations, she barely felt the towel fall away. The cool air hit her skin, her nipples tightening in response, a shiver chasing down her spine as he stretched her arms above her head. One large hand held her slender wrists with ease as the other explored the curve of her waist.

  He broke away from her lips, ignoring the small sound of disappointment she made, to trail white-hot kisses along her jaw and down her throat. Her back arched in response, thrusting her naked breasts against the solid wall of muscle that was his chest.

  She moaned, biting her lip to try to stifle the sound as his large hand closed over her. His clever fingers rolled her sensitive nipple between them. Pinching and pulling gently until a small whimper escaped her throat, and her hips bucked against him.

  All her protests, the reasons why this wasn’t a good idea, were forgotten as he released her wrists. His warm mouth swept down to lave his tongue over the nipple he’d just tortured. Her head dropped back against the wall at the sensual torment, the noise from his zipper a harsh sound of promise. She bit her lip, her cheeks flushed with arousal. Oh god, she needed this, needed to feel him filling her, stretching her and driving into her.

  Then, the wait was over and he was there. The hardness she’d felt earlier pressed against her sex as he lifted her thigh, his hand smoothed against her skin as he held it over his hip.

  His expression was tight, harsh, and his dark eyes unreadable as he dipped down to push against her. She caught her breath as the thick head of his erection slid just inside the silken entrance to her body, already slick with excitement.

  Her eyes widened as her body stretched to accept him, but he was already pulling back. She moaned in protest; a sound that became one of pleasure as he slid the hard head of his cock up, then rubbed it against her sensitive clit. She closed her eyes as shivers chased over her skin. This was torture, pure torture.

  “You want it, don’t you? I can smell your need. So sweet, enticing.”

  He nibbled along her neck, leaving a trail of tiny nips that left fire on her skin and her heart racing. She nodded, unable to phrase a coherent sentence at the moment. He stopped teasing her, raised her thigh higher and opened her body completely to him, then drove into her in one strong movement.

  His gaze met hers, holding it as if reading everything all the way down to her soul. He thrust into her slowly, time after time, pressing her hard against the cool tile wall. The room around them filled with the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, soft moans…even the smell of sex hanging in the air, a combination of warm skin, sweat and pheromones. His hunger for her was now evident in the look in his eyes and so too was the fierceness of his possession.

  This was no sweet exploratory lovemaking—two new lovers coming together gently. It was like he was staking a claim. And she was too far gone to complain, loving every minute of it, her arms around his shoulder and legs wrapped around his lean hips as he pumped into her. Quick, rough sex against a wall and she’d never found anything so erotic in her life.

  She moaned as her body tensed on his where it was buried deep inside her, deeper than she’d thought possible. A familiar tension started within her, driving the need to move faster, deeper…clench harder. Anything to realize the tension coiled low in her belly.

  “That’s it, baby, just let go.”

  Her movements slowed, became more uncoordinated. Then, everything stilled, one perfect moment of pure clarity as she hovered on the edge. Waiting for his next movement, just needing his next thrust to tip her over the edge. He moved, hips driving hard against hers as he struck, his sharp fangs driving deep and piercing the soft skin of her throat.

  “Shit,” she gasped, as ecstasy hit her at light speed and breathy moans of pleasure filled the room. The combination of her climax and the ecstasy of Kalen’s bite rendered her unable to think, mindless with pleasure. His powerful body drove into her once, twice more…a guttural groan leaving his throat as he pushed deep inside her one last time. His cock pulsed and jerked as his climax hit.

  Long seconds passed, the only sounds in the room were of their ragged breathing. Unwelcome reality crowded back into her pleasure-numbed brain with a vengeance. Still held tight in Kalen’s arms, she struggled, raining blows on his shoulders until he let her go.

  “You…bastard.” She staggered away as he stumbled backward. His expression showing he was as stunned, as much as she w
as horrified, as she swiped at the warm wetness on her neck. Her hand came away red with blood.

  “You fucking bit me.”

  It wasn’t a serious bite, but that wasn’t the point. Biting was reserved for people in love, people like Maria and Marak. Bond mates, married couples. Not people you just screwed up against a wall in anger and definitely not without asking permission.

  “Vixen…let me explain.”

  He held out a pleading hand, but she just grabbed the towel from the floor and wrapped it around her as if it were a shield.

  “I don’t wanna hear it, K,” she snarled, fury in every line of her body. “I have a patrol to get ready for.”

  “Vixen…”

  “Get. Out,” she shouted.

  * * *

  To say Vixen was distracted the rest of the night on patrol would have been an understatement. Hands stuffed in her pockets, her shoulders were rounded as she walked, her body language screaming, ‘don’t talk to me.’

  She’d been partnered with Feral, her last minute switch, putting them both covering Mikal’s patrol. Having been patrol partners on previous occasions, it wasn’t at all unusual they’d been assigned together. A good thing, since Vixen didn’t feel like talking. If she’d ended up with Lucan, who’d looked her way with hope in his eyes when Mikal had called the pairs, she would’ve had to kill him, and leave his body down an empty alley. A younger warrior, he was far too enthusiastic and chatty for Vixen on a good day, let alone the foul mood she was in today.

  Scowling, she wrapped her arms closer around herself as she and Feral walked down the main club strip on Southside. It wasn’t part of their usual route, but with Marak off on honeymoon, everyone had to pull extra duty. So, she and Feral had elected to cover Southside, then head over to their usual patrol route.

  Nearing club ‘kick-out time,’ the street was busy, and the reason why they’d decided to check out this particular area first. This time of night was always a favorite for predators, paranormal or not. The people pouring out were usually high with alcohol and other substances surging through their veins, which lowered their reactions and numbed their survival instincts.

  Some predators were already here. As they walked, she spotted at least three Kyn feeding in the shadows. She nodded as they passed, a silent warning not to take more than the women they’d lured into the shadows could afford, and to wipe the women’s memories when they were done.

  “Fucking hate this time of night,” Feral grumbled as they reached the end of the road, stopping on the corner, like two clubbers waiting for a cab. Although several cabs passed the tall couple on the corner, none of them stopped—as if they didn’t see them.

  Because they probably didn’t. An observer would need paranormal blood to see the two Kyn in the first place, to be able to pierce the veil of obscurity that shrouded them whenever they preferred not to be seen. And if they were able to do that, then they would be able to recognize the two Kyn warriors for what they were, anyway.

  Vixen grunted in reply. It was well known Feral hated clubs, claiming the lights gave him a headache. Given he was one of the most photosensitive Kyn she’d ever met, she wasn’t surprised.

  It didn’t take long for things to quiet down, the last of the humans finding cabs or making their way off to the subway, eventually leaving just the two Kyn on the corner to be alone. Feral pushed off from the wall as soon as the street was clear, and the club lights snapped off one by one.

  “So, you gonna to tell me what’s bugging you?” he asked as she dropped into step with him, automatically shortening his stride to match hers.

  “Don’t know what you’re going on about.” Not in any mood to talk about it, her reply was short. Kalen snuck up on me in the shower and we screwed each other’s brains out against the wall. Not the sort of thing she wanted to admit to her patrol partner, not when she couldn’t be sure how she felt about it, herself. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Actually, she knew exactly how she felt about what’d happened.

  She loved it. Loved every hot, sweaty minute of it. Right up to the point where he’d bitten her. Anger rose again at that memory. She still couldn’t believe he’d done that. What did he think gave him the right to bite her? Without thinking, her hand raised to her neck. She checked the movement, annoyed with herself. It was only a little bite for god’s sake, so why did it feel as if it was lit up in neon, for all to see?

  “Come on, Vixen, this is me, drop the act. You’ve been like a bulldog chewing a wasp all bloody night, so what gives?” Feral asked, sliding her a glance from the corner of his eye as they walked, easily covering the distance to their own patrol area.

  “That bad, huh?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. That was why she and Feral got on so well. He didn’t talk a lot, but when he did, he was blunt as hell. A spade was a spade with Feral.

  “He didn’t hurt you did he?” His comment caught her off guard, making her stride falter a little. His voice was calm, emotionless. Feral at his most dangerous.

  Most of the warriors saw him as the sensible one, the guy always around to clean up and organize things when they needed it. Vixen, having patrolled with him, had seen him in action against the rogue. Like most of the warriors, he fought with bladed weapons. In Feral’s case, though, those blades were little more than sharp edges on a heavy pair of knuckle-dusters. They were ancient and brutal weapons that had come with the Kyn when they’d crossed into this world. Not many used them anymore, but Feral was lethal with them, a beast as wild as his name, lurking under his quiet and ‘sensible’ exterior.

  “How’d you know?”

  “You’re wearing a turtleneck. I can count the number of times I’ve seen you in one, on a single hand. Even in the middle of winter you wear a tee,” he pointed out, startling her with his perception. She hadn’t thought anyone noticed what she wore or didn’t wear.

  “That, and I saw you two out on the terrace the other night. Don’t take an idiot to work it out. He’s the only one that puts you in a foul mood on a regular basis,” he added, his voice quiet in the darkness as he stopped, a hand on her arm turning her to face him. She took his expression to be a concerned one, his fingers gentle as he peeled the fabric back from her neck to check the healing wound. To her surprise, she let him.

  “Not too bad, it’ll be gone by sundown. You’ll be back in your favorite t-shirt by tomorrow. I like the one that says ‘this bitch bites’ myself,” he said, then replaced her collar and smiled. His facial expression displayed a hint of sadness. “I guess this means there’s no chance for me then?”

  “Huh?” She frowned, blindsided by the comment, and looked up into his eyes. Realization slammed home as she read the truth there—admiration and sad resignation. “Oh hell. Feral, I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” was all she managed as her heart wrung for the proud man who stood in front of her.

  He shrugged. “Don’t be. Should’ve had the balls to say something… just thought you’d notice if you wanted. Realized a long time ago you wouldn’t…I saw the way you light up whenever he enters a room. Just…if he hurts you, I will kill him, okay?”

  Tears prickled at the back of Vixen’s eyes for the second time that night, although this time for a different reason. She pulled him into a fierce bear hug, too choked to speak. She’d grown up in a one-parent family on the outskirts of the Kyn community where a converted Kyn, nor a child destined to be a warrior, had been fully accepted. So apart from her mother, Vixen never had a family, and never had a big brother to look out for her.

  “Well now, isn’t this cute?”

  So caught up were they in their own conversation the voice startled both warriors. Leaping apart, they went for their weaponry at the same time. Feral’s hands drove into his pockets whilst Vixen’s went over her shoulders for the heavy blades sheathed across her back.

  They were surrounded.

  She cursed as she turned, putting herself back-to-back with Feral. Her gaze swept the alley. She saw figures leaning against walls, crouched on dumps
ters and hanging off the fire escapes all around them. Tall, lean figures she recognized, her lips curling back to reveal her fangs as she hissed.

  Dressed like street punks, their hair an array of bright colors cropped and styled into spikes or Mohawks, with bodies covered in piercings and tattoos, it would be easy to mistaken them for a standard street gang.

  “Pixies, why does it have to be bloody pixies?”

  Feral’s voice was filled with the same disgust Vixen felt. To be surrounded without realizing it was bad—an unforgivable mistake for the experienced warriors they were supposed to be—but to be caught with their pants down by pixies added insult to injury.

  Nastier cousins of the fae, pixies were violent, bloodthirsty creatures who lived in packs. Unlike their tree hugger kinfolk, their ‘might makes right’ philosophy would have done the average warlord-dictator proud. They all appeared to be young men, but as with most of the night races, appearances could be deceiving. Pixies were as long-lived as the Kyn, and retained their youthful appearance well into old age. An elderly-looking pixie was as rare as ‘rocking horse shit.’

  “Not here to get into a fight, lads,” Feral stated, his voice a deep rumble as they stood in the middle of the street. With blades drawn and bodies tensed for fight, all their senses were on alert, ready for the first sign of attack.

  Old-looking pixies might be rare, but because of their volatile tempers, pissed off pixies were more common. A lot more common, especially if you mentioned toadstools. Thanks to the human fairytale books depicting pixies as cute, androgynous creatures who sat on toadstools, your average pixie tended to get somewhat sociopathic if the word was mentioned. Trouble was, that word was hovering on Vixen’s tongue.

  “Don’t you dare.” Feral’s voice was pitched, so only she heard it. He had to know what was going through her mind. He’d worked with her for years. With a street load of pixies, and though they were massively outnumbered, he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “Spoilsport.”

  She pouted in disappointment. A good fight was just what she needed to dump some anger from her encounter with Kalen earlier. Warriors on the whole didn’t have anger management issues. They just went and beat the living snot out of something, usually a rogue vampire, until they felt better. Problem sorted.