Blood - Blood Rose Part 29

Now, he flashed a c.o.c.ky grin at his former partner. "You realize I will have to drain your blood first. Take you to the point of death."

"Just do it, Swift."

"Well, let us arrange you prettily for your seduction, my lord." Drake pointed to the ivory silk chaise. "Go lie down there and look fetching."

Sommersby shot him an angry look, but he stalked over to the day bed and awkwardly lay down on it. Treating it as a joke, Drake sauntered over. "Ooh, a muscular virgin for my delight."

"Jesus Christ, Swift," Sommersby snapped, but he broke off as Drake bared his fangs.

Drake bent to Sommersby's neck and drew in his scent. Male. Sweat. Serena was sleeping innocently. How would she react once she learned that Sommersby was willing to become what he despised to save her? How could she not love Sommersby more than him?

Drake brushed his mouth over Sommersby's neck. d.a.m.nation, his skin tasted good. The texture rough with stubble, not satiny soft like Serena's.

Drake remembered the aching c.o.c.kstand he'd got when he turned. He'd reached for his own p.r.i.c.k, even reached for Lukos's c.o.c.k as the change took him, as maddening l.u.s.t had gripped him. His first feed had been a bit clumsy-but the pretty prost.i.tute hadn't complained.

But he knew what to do now. He took one last deep breath to drink in Sommersby's erotic smell. Then he bit into that delicious neck. A quick clamp of his jaw drove his fangs through earthy, salty flesh. Springy pressure-the wall of the artery-but the snap of his jaw sent his fangs through. Blood flooded. He sucked down that first quick burst of blood, then he gulped down the thick, lush stream.

Weakly, Sommersby's hand grasped him. Tried to pull him away. But the fingers slipped off his shoulders as he drank. He drank quickly and Sommersby weakened fast.

Even as his former partner grew close to death, his blood was hot and rich, and Drake moaned at the sheer pleasure of it. Sommersby's large body began to relax, the boots rolling outward, the arms hanging heavily.

Drake's c.o.c.k throbbed with each swallow. He brushed his knuckles along Sommersby's cheek, rasping along the dark whiskers. His eyes were almost closed; his lashes lay along his cheek, long and lush and curling at the end.

Beneath him, the earl struggled, though his hips began to thrust. Drake spoke through his thoughts. Don't fight, but be ready to drink.

Going to kill me...wanted to...

Yes, I'm going to kill you-I have to.

He heard it-the low whoosh of Sommersby's last breath leaving him. Drake ripped his own wrist open and put it to Sommersby's mouth. The blood poured in, giving a burst of strength to the victim. As the earl took the first drink, Drake couldn't resist-he stroked the long length of the other man's erection. As vampire, he had not yet f.u.c.ked with another man, but suddenly he was tempted.

His fingers tested the girth of Sommersby's ma.s.sive p.r.i.c.k, traced the head through the trousers. Sommersby bucked up against his fingers, sucking down his life-giving blood.

"Oh dear heaven!"

Drake jerked up and saw Serena standing in a pool of moonlight. Her gaze was fixed on his hand toying with Sommersby's big genitals. Her eyes were wide and silvery, her hand was at her throat, but he sensed her arousal.

And he was d.a.m.ned excited.

Come here, love, Drake urged. He wanted this. He wanted to change for you. We both have to be vampires for the magic to work.

Serena could barely stand. She'd thought Drake was killing Jonathon. And now she knew- Jonathon would live forever, as a vampire. He was doing this for her.

Despite the cool air in this unused room, she was sweating into her dress-it was damp against her back.

Come to me, sweetheart, Drake urged.

Just at the moment the light in Jonathon's eyes had faded, Drake had given his blood and the light shone again. And now, watching Jonathon drink, watching the sensual way the men touched each other, all the while scenting the blood, she burned with desire. It was like a live thing within her. She couldn't control the need.

On trembling legs she stood in front of Drake.

Lift your skirt, my love.

Cool air rushed up her skirt as she drew up the hem. She saw Jonathon flex his fingers, growing stronger. Regaining his life.

Come.

Did Drake mean move to him or climax? With his free hand, he cupped her bottom and pulled her to his mouth. Her hot, juicy quim pressed tight to his l.u.s.ty, skilled mouth. His tongue flicked, pleasured, while Jonathon drank.

Jonathon's fingers gripped Drake's forearm, his hips working.

Sommersby will come, Drake promised in her thoughts. He will have the best o.r.g.a.s.m of his life. And then he will be vampire. And I, my sweet, will give you the most intense o.r.g.a.s.m.

Yes, you will! She cried it as the tension tightened and burst inside her-a wave flooding her.

Jonathon pulled his mouth from Drake's wrist and shouted too. "Serena!"

Jonathon watched her come-and his eyes changed from dark and mysterious to silver and reflective.

A hoa.r.s.e, raw groan filled her thoughts. Drake! She saw Drake's eyes shut, his mouth clench, as he joined them in ecstasy.

Chapter Twenty-Four.

Turning Jonathon woke to burning thirst. His arms were trapped and numb, his legs cramping. He shot up-tried to-but he couldn't rise, and his head felt clamped to the ground.

Christ, man, he warned himself. Do not let panic grip you.

His fingers brushed smooth fabric. Silk? No, the satin lining of a coffin. One of the coffins his father had kept in the house. A mad fear welled up again as he realized he had slept within it, and he struggled for control. Now that he was a vampire, what else had he expected?

With shaking fingers, Jonathon touched his neck. No holes. No oozing blood. No trace of a wound.

Thirst. He was so thirsty. The fire seemed to spread from his throat through his body. Slowly, inexorably, like flames licking across an open field on a still, hot day.

Sommersby, you need to drink. Come to the bed.

Jonathon bent forward. His pulse, slow and steady and healthy, thudded in his throat as he sat up in the coffin. They had moved two coffins into Serena's bedchamber-to stay by her side. But Serena wasn't in the room. Only Swift, and he sat on the edge of the bed. Nude. Drake caressed his own c.o.c.k, in the slow rhythm of an aroused man trying to pleasure himself but not surrender to climax.

Jonathon vaulted out of the coffin, astonished at the strength he commanded, the supple grace of his movements. His entire life he'd been plagued by a large, clumsy body. Now he moved with a fluidity that amazed him.

As he landed lightly on his bare feet, he cast a glance down at his own c.o.c.kstand. Tall and proud, his p.r.i.c.k swung like a lead bar. He'd never been so aware of it-its weight, the sway of the shaft and of the swollen head as he slowly walked over to Drake.

What devil possessed him Jonathon didn't know, but he bent and kissed Swift hard on the mouth. Their lips joined. Their tongues touched. He felt the roughness of male skin under his fingers, so different from Serena's delicate face. And he felt the grip of a hand around his c.o.c.k and reveled in the sensation. By some instinct, Jonathon reached for Swift's staff, wanting to pleasure the man he'd once wanted to strangle.

He began to jerk his fist up and down the length of Swift's thick shaft. In response, Swift squeezed his p.r.i.c.k tight, just below the head, and he felt the k.n.o.b swell to bursting. Swift's other hand grasped his ballocks and played with them with brutal tugs and twists. d.a.m.nation, the pain felt good. All the while, Jonathon devoured his partner's mouth, hungering for the wetness, the heat, the pa.s.sion of the kiss. Their fangs collided. Swift's scratched his tongue.

Blood. So good.

Was he being unfaithful to Serena? He couldn't stop. This was foreplay to blood drinking, and he knew it.

You've got big f.u.c.king ballocks. Swift's voice, speaking in his head. What do you want, Sommersby? To suck me while I suck you? Me to invade your a.r.s.e? Or your c.o.c.k held tight in mine?

Jonathon had never had a taste for raw, gritty s.e.x. The dark acts. But he wanted this. Now.

I'd like you to f.u.c.k my a.r.s.e, but first I intend to pleasure yours, my initiate. Swift laughed.

Eyes closed, antic.i.p.ation running hot through his veins, Jonathon lay on the bed. He moaned as Swift's teeth sc.r.a.ped the firm flesh of his rear. He tensed, his muscles rock hard, then relaxed as pleasure rippled up his spine. His ballocks drew up, his c.o.c.k hardened and grew. He shut his eyes, felt Swift grip his rock-hard c.o.c.k. Accepting the gesture, he reached back for Swift's member-to return the favor. He'd relied on this madman more than once to save his life-and he'd done the same. They did share a bond. The bond of growing up together, of facing h.e.l.l together. Of falling in love with Serena together.

Serena.

Jonathon heard Swift calling to her. Serena, come and join us in bed. Come and play.

Have Serena walk in and catch Swift kissing his a.r.s.e, rubbing his c.o.c.k, and him in the throes of ecstasy over it? Never. But he couldn't throw his partner off-those few extra days as a vampire seemed to give Swift more strength. Swift kept him pinned.

Jonathon twisted beneath Swift, and he saw the door open. Serena walked in, fully dressed, carrying an open book. She had been awake, in his house, unprotected while he slept, and the now-familiar surge of panic rose again-a jolt through his body that left him unable to think. He fought it. She was safe. Obviously safe. And though faced with the impossible-his transformation, hers, imminent danger-she had her nose in a book.

He could barely think, and his breath came in harsh pants. He wanted s.e.x, wanted release. Needed it. Needed the harsh pounding of his loins, the thrusting while he grunted and sweat and drove himself to heaven, and gained the reward of another's o.r.g.a.s.m before finally, exquisitely, surrendering to his own.

Serena padded across the carpet, looking like a dark angel. Her hair hung loose in black waves and spirals, bouncing softly as she walked.

Her eyes widened when she saw him and Drake-what did she see? Two naked men sprawled on a bed, one running his lips over the other's a.r.s.e, each grappling with the other's p.r.i.c.k?

This is the pleasure of being vampire, Swift said, his voice strained. Jonathon flinched as Swift braced his fists on either side of his shoulders. Sensual freedom...the freedom to enjoy carnal pleasure without restraint. In whatever way you desire. As a vampire, you are free of mortal restrictions-everything is pleasure. There is no pain.

This is your destiny, Serena, he continued. And yours now, Sommersby.

Jonathon's c.o.c.k pulsed, trapped between his belly and the bed. Hot desire pounded in his head. Swift moved off him and he took the moment of freedom to roll over on the bed. Serena's shining gray gaze roamed his body. She licked her lips, the motion of her tongue slow and agonizingly seductive.

Swift's hand slid the length of his own c.o.c.k.

The book fell forgotten from Serena's fingers, and Jonathon's chest tightened as she crawled onto the bed. She knelt between them.

Drake leaned back on his elbows, grinning. h.e.l.l, how could he be so blasted casual about having beautiful Serena eye to eye with his pole?

Jonathon knew he could never be like that-each moment with her was intense erotic ecstasy, and he became so focused on her, on desire, on pleasure, that he was knocked off his axis. The cold, lordly manner disguised a hot, primitive need.

His jawbone began to burn, to throb. He ran his tongue over his teeth-sharper, pointed. How? How could it have happened? He couldn't remember the change, couldn't remember the night before.

Jonathon stretched out on the bed and held up his c.o.c.k-h.e.l.l, they were like puppies clamoring for a mistress's attention, and he laughed.

Sharing the laugh, Serena chose him. She wrapped her fingers around his c.o.c.k, and Jonathon's heart almost stopped. Her pretty hands looked so small on his thick vampire c.o.c.k. Lips pursed, she bent to the head. She kissed the straining k.n.o.b, her kiss sweet and unbearable erotic.

Swift gave a sharp, pained groan.

Interrupted by that hungry growl, Serena drew back, and Jonathon wanted to roar in frustration. He clenched his fists, fought the powerful urge to thread his fingers into her black tresses and drag her back to his weeping c.o.c.k.

Drake knew he had to intervene before Serena tempted Sommersby beyond control. You need to feed first, Jonathon. He used Sommersby's Christian name, to show they were now, as vampires, true equals.

He saw the brief nod Jonathon gave. From you, Swift?

Yes. Bite me. He said it as a light-hearted command, but Drake caught his breath as Jonathon leaned toward his neck. Serena watched with large, beautiful eyes.

No hesitation. Plunge, Drake instructed. And laughed roughly at his words. When he'd been a boy, living in the flashhouse, he'd been raped by a man, but now he was no frightened boy, no vessel for some hulking perverted brute-he was a vampire, powerful and strong, and he wanted this.

Jonathon pushed his shoulders back, pinning him to the bed this time, and touched his mouth to Drake's neck. Instinct guided his pupil. Jonathon's fangs pushed out and pressed hard in his flesh.

Find the blood, he urged. Bite down hard. A clean plunge.

On a jolt of pain, sharp and incredible, Jonathon's fangs drove in. Drake's blood rushed like a river in spate and he climaxed, shooting his hot, thick seed across his belly.

Serena squealed and he gave her a wide grin. Come here, sweet. Take off your dress for me.

He saw her hesitation, but also the s.e.xual longing in her eyes.

Come, he urged. Her ivory cheeks flushed.

As Serena undid her dress-her wrinkled silk dress that she'd worn since first fleeing this house-Drake found his strength flooding back, even as Jonathon drank his blood. Erotic power burned in him. Instantly his c.o.c.k was hard again, curved like a drawn bow.

Jonathon bore a proud c.o.c.kstand too, one that swelled with each gulp of blood. Drake grasped his partner's shoulder. Enough. Gouging his fingers into Jonathon's flesh, he pulled him back and the fangs slid free.

Drake held out his hand to Serena. Now we can play.

But she was staring down, not meeting his gaze, and his heart, his strong and invincible heart, skipped a beat.

"You are both vampires," Serena said softly. "There's no longer any reason for me to be mortal."

Serena knew what she should do after such brave words. She should wind her hair and draw it away from her neck, and offer that vulnerable place to Drake's mouth, or Jonathon's. But for all the bravado in her words, she shivered-she was about to make an enormous step.

Was she right to choose this instead of waiting for fate and destiny and prophecy to make the decision for her?

Jonathon had had the courage to do it-for her.

I want to be the one to make you vampire, Serena. Drake's reflective eyes shone brilliantly gold in the firelight. They revealed nothing, but she knew that though Drake might not have an immortal soul, he had a strong heart and a powerful capacity to love.

He levered up on his arm, his silvery-blond hair in wild waves. I love you. I've never known love like this before. No one has ever cared about me.

Jonathon kissed her hand with an elegant flourish. His reflective eyes held hers. No, Serena, you should wait.

But you didn't, she whispered. You did this for me.

Serena's thoughts whirled as she weighed her decision. Once she became vampire, she could never be the normal woman she had wanted to be. If she destroyed Lukos, she might never discover who her parents were.

But if she became vampire, she would be with Drake and Jonathon for eternity. She had never belonged anywhere-she wanted to belong with them.