Ambrosia (Nectar 2)

Intense cold, colder than she’d ever experienced, climbed up from her toes and shot out her fingers and, with strength she didn’t know she had, she heaved him off. He landed on the rug on his backside.

His skin was greyish, his fangs were out. He, too, had blue eyes. Nothing like the beauty of Tristan’s and they didn’t appear to be changing colour. She was acutely aware of the open wound on her throat and her blood trickling out.

She was about to grab for the cell phone on the nightstand but before she got it he moved lightning fast, was back on her, pinning her to the bed and then he pierced her throat again in another spot near the first, the sickening sound of more of her skin breaking, and doing it loud. Way loud.

Where was security? Where was Tristan?

Brutally cold pain surged again painfully like lightning, passing up through her and she dug her nails into his shoulders and shoved simultaneously, making him fly back as if he’d been thrown by a big gust of wind. The grey of his skin disappeared and he look shocked for a moment but shook it off, smiled, and the fangs retracted but then came right back out.

She was upright, sitting in the bed, and his body had slammed into the dresser causing the mirror to fall over, smashing on him as he’d crumpled to the floor but before she had a chance to move he lunged again and moved with superhuman speed, ripping his jacket off and tossing it, as he came at her. But she volleyed him back with both palms and he hit the dresser again. Hard.

He snarled and came at her again, this time ducking and grabbing her ankle so that she fell backwards in the bed and then he was on her. Right on top of her.

“No!” she screeched and that cold feeling surged but then ebbed half way up, leaving her feeling weak. So weak. Like she’d used up every ounce of strength she’d had. But it was as if he’d suddenly gained all the strength she’d lost.

Liam’s teeth were on her throat again. He held her down; she couldn’t get him away. His hand went up her jean skirt and roughly ripped her panties down her thighs. She screamed bloody murder, trying to squirm away but getting nowhere.

His fingertips touched between her legs and then she felt pressure as he yanked the tampon string, releasing her throat, glancing at it and then tossing it aside, and he pushed a finger in for a second, pulled it out and looked at it and then thrust a finger back in, painfully. He let go of her throat and looked to her eyes, “Be good.”

He was trying to mesmerize her while violating her. He pushed his finger in harder.

She tried to squirm away, “Tristan’s coming. Tristan’ll be back any second and he’ll rip your fuckin’ head off.”

She heard fabric ripping. It was the panties coming apart as he got them completely out of the way.

“Better get my fill then,” he bit down on her throat again, she heard him swallow, then he let go, gasping, “You taste so fucking unbelievable. Your blood is so clean, so pure. Even better than hers.”

“I’ll rip your head off myself!” she cried and felt something rise in her, something that was fucking pissed.

She tried to kick, to thrash, to move, but he had her pinned to the point of being immobile. His finger was plunging in and out faster, harder. She was so bone dry it was agony. He started trying to circle her clit, “C’mon!” he ordered, staring into her eyes. It did nothing for her.

That hand left her skirt and he got his pants undone while he still pinned her with his other hand and most of his body weight. He got his dick out and it was against her opening. Pushing.

Oh God, no. Please no.

Absolute horror filled her as he pushed in a little, trying to get in despite the fact that Kyla didn’t have a smidgeon of moisture down there, and his fanged mouth descended again toward her throat as he muttered, “Tristan isn’t the only one who likes to fuck pets while he feeds and fuck have I ever got an overwhelming urge to get inside you. I need to fuck you almost as much as I need to drink from you…” His thumb hooked her bra aside, sliding over a nipple when the door crashed open.

It was Sam.

Liam flew off her of his own accord and rushed toward Sam while putting his dick away. Sam was stalking toward him with fangs out.

Oh no!

“Run!” Sam hissed at her, attempting to pin Liam to the wall. Sam had a small dagger with a glimmering green-jeweled handle in his hand and he held it up over Liam’s head. Both of the men had fangs out.