City of Dragons: Of Flesh and Blood (12 page)

Haley’s heat, seeing the Jersey City Prince
feed
, the feel of her preternatural self welling up inside his body--God of Man, Farley was going to combust.

Trapped in the edge of the Roll, Farley was powerless. It was a sensation he feared and reveled in. Haley could kill him like this. Just last September he’d watched Medan make a man fuck himself to death.

Body shaking, every muscle tight and on the edge of release, Farley barked out one last cry as the Roll came thundering over him, taking him out.

*** *** ***

Haley fell against the Jersey City Prince as Farley collapsed, writhing on the floor, lost in the aftermath of the Roll. He could never take very much of her. He wasn’t strong enough, and it always took him down first. Wetness coated Haley’s fingers, and Deshi’s body made small hesitant jerks. He was close, so close.

Deshi released his bite, and his arms encircled her. “Don’t wait.” His voice was gravel deep and close to her ear. It wasn’t that Haley didn’t want to give it to him now, but Deshi’s body was already trembling. Without release the Roll would hurt him; and fueled by the RHage, she was scared it would do more than that.

Heat roared over the Prince’s skin, and silver scales patterned out along his chest and arms. “Haley…God…Haley.”

He pulled her flush against his body, making it impossible for her to move her hands. Haley growled and squeezed.

“Let me do this.”

Deshi shook his head against her cheek. “Give me the RHage.”

“I don’t want to leave you unfinished.” She never ignored him. Never. And he needed this.

“You’ve done enough…you’ve given me so much…”

But it wasn’t enough as far as she was concerned. Haley said, “Look at me.” With a physical reluctance that made his muscles jump, he did as she commanded. Beautiful Deshi stared at her with golden eyes.

Haley smiled and pushed her face against his cheek. Her tongue stroked his cheek, jaw, then his ear. She nicked him, and his breathing hitched. “Let me…”

“I can’t.” He trembled under the weight of the RHage.

Haley realized then he was making her hurt him. Making her punish him. “Why are you doing this?”

His breath shuddered and he pulled her tighter. “I deserve it.”

Haley didn’t know if he meant for what he did in September or because of what was happening between him and Emily now. It didn’t matter because he was wrong. Deshi didn’t deserve to suffer. Not when he had already suffered so much for so long.

Furious, burning up with the RHage and the
need
, Haley yanked her hands out from between them. She shoved Deshi, and he went tumbling back flat on the floor. His arms came up. Seeing the Prince of Jersey City, cowering, afraid, brought a wall-shaking growl from Haley’s throat. The only reason he remained aroused was because she held him in the current of metaphysics.

“Look at me, Deshi.” She rolled her lip. He brought his eyes up. They were blue, and there was no desire there, just fear and shame.

Sweat rolled down Haley’s back. She was burning too hot, holding the Roll on its edge, the RHage nitrous oxide in her low octane tank. Her body shuddered, and Deshi clambered to his knees.

“What are you doing?”

“If you don’t want me, then I’ll just keep it.”

“No.” He reached for her. “Haley…don’t…please…You have to let it go. Finish it. Please, you’re burning up.”

God of Man, she was. Her skin was on fire, her insides liquid. Her breath came out in a ragged hiss as the pain rose, inching up her spine. If Deshi didn’t take it, there was no place for it to go. It was going to consume her.

“Haley…” Deshi cupped her face and pushed back her hair. His eyes were too wide. “Stop it, please. God of Man…Haley...You’ll kill yourself. Do you understand? Let it go, or you’ll die.”

“At least I won’t hurt you.”

Deshi’s grip tightened, and she watched him search her face. Haley was sure he’d found what he was looking for because all the shame and fear he’d been shedding flickered out. Deshi pulled her face upward and smashed their mouths together.

A desperate sound eased out of Haley’s mouth. She let Deshi pull her down and under him, giving him control. It did something to the Prince. Brought out a bit of dominance he was usually too shy to show. Purring, Deshi arched over her, nipping her shoulders, then her neck, teasing her with the prospect of
feeding
. His hands ran along her ribs, hips, and thighs, kneading the skin, every touch drawing more of her preternatural self into him.

Deshi moved between her legs, pushed in, and at the same moment Haley Rolled him. Once inside, his biology took over and he thrust with a kind of desperation which pleaded for forgiveness. Deshi had missed this…them.

It was obvious what he had been designed for and why. Unlike Farley, Deshi could ride the Roll until she spun it out. The RHage rolled outward, burning up the metaphysical lines with a supercell storm of power.

“Now…Haley…please…”

Haley let go, hoping the pleasure would numb part of the pain.

By seven-thirty Orin was walking up the steps to the Ancient Histories Building. He pulled out his keys to open the door, but it was already unlocked.

That’s odd.

He checked his watch. Usually, maintenance was out of the place by six every morning. Maybe they were running late? He stepped inside. Everything was quiet and completely dark. The air in the hall was a mix of scents, mostly Lysol and Windex. He walked down the corridor in front of the main offices. His loafers made small squeaks against the polished floor.

Ancient Histories didn’t have as much space as a lot of the other academic buildings. The old brick construct had started life as an office building to catch the overflow from financial aid, and then continuing education. Most of the front rooms were still designated for that purpose, but the large back area which began life as storage space had been transformed into a sunken classroom. At full capacity Orin could lecture up to a hundred and fifty students. Most semesters he was overbooked.

In the late seventies UGA Dean Kevin Banks approached Orin with an innovative idea to bring new life to the dry, stale, and dying interest in Ancient Histories.

“Just think what it would be like to hear history first hand.”

At a little over eight-hundred years old and a Domestic, Orin was one of the few Kin on the planet who could deliver.

He paused part way up the hall, the door to his classroom within sight. There was no reason for him to stop. He just had an odd feeling of apprehension. Orin rubbed his chest, and the sound of his hand against the fabric seemed incredibly loud.

Forward, he told himself, but his loafers remained rooted to the spot. He adjusted his glasses, then his tie, moved his brief case to his other hand.

What the hell was wrong with him? Orin forced himself to take a step even though the pain in his chest took a sharp jab and the hesitation turned into dread. A few feet away, and he could smell it. Thick, coppery, sweet, burnt coffee and chocolate. Lesser-bred. And even though Orin’s brain screamed that he knew the scent, he refused to acknowledge it.

A figment of the imagination was the only possible explanation.

Orin pulled open the door, stepped inside, and promptly dropped his briefcase. What he saw couldn’t be real. It had to be some type of hallucination, some horrible nightmare. And even though he wanted to turn and run, he went forward, his legs becoming weaker with every step until he stumbled and fell in the pool of blood.

Mary Gilsp lay broken in front of the podium he lectured at every day. She was nude, her throat eaten out and all her vitals consumed. Desecrated. With trembling hands Orin brushed the hair away from her mouth, leaving a trail of red on her cheek. Her beautiful eyes stared at nothing.

Orin picked up Mary’s hand and pressed his face into her palm.

He inhaled, smelling death, fear, and violence. She had suffered terrible things, and those last moments were written in her flavor. On the trail of all those horrors a familiar Female scent rode on eddies stirred in the air.

Orin’s head snapped up, and a deep growl eased out of his throat.

“Hello, Orin.” Rehbek’ah, Daughter to the Queen of Athens, unfolded herself from one of the desks and stood in the third row staring at him. She could have passed for a student in her faded jeans and cashmere sweater, except for that ethereal perfection associated with all Kin.

Her chosen form was cut tall, lean, with thick black hair long enough to hang over her shoulders in waves. She looked just as Orin remembered. Even wore the same double strand of Tiffany diamonds.

It wasn’t like she was easy to forget. No, following Orin around, threatening his students and firebombing his car had pretty well cemented every detail firmly into his gray matter.

But one thing had changed. Rehbek’ah smelled strongly of honey.

She smiled. “My Orin and his beautiful green eyes.”

I am not yours.
“What do you want?”

“There is no one to keep us apart anymore.” The smile on Rehbek’ah’s perfect face was serial killer sweet.

“Does Re’ka know you’re out?” Because the last Orin had heard, the Athens Queen had buttoned her daughter’s ass down in the Dens on the threat of evisceration if she so much as stuck her nose out for fresh air. After all the damage and threats, her behavior had come dangerously close to breaking Medan’s rules of Seclusion.

Rehbek’ah’s eyes darkened, but her nasty smile stayed right where it was. “Re’ka is dead.” She was Queen?

Great. This bitch was going to make Hungary’s Erzsebet Bathory look sane.

God of Man, Athens was in serious trouble.

Rehbek’ah’s grey eyes slid to Mary’s body. “Although I must say, Mother wasn’t nearly as entertaining to kill as the Lesser-Bred.”

Heat burst out of Orin’s skin. His vision slid away, teeth extended, chelae out, and his primal anger rose to a level he hadn’t felt in centuries. He headed right toward Rehbek’ah. Female or not, new Queen or not, he was going to make her bleed. He wanted to make her bleed. He was almost there when he regained enough control to stop. It left him shaking so hard that his glasses clattered to the floor.

“Don’t you want to hurt me, Orin?” Rehhek’ah’s high, lilted voice felt like rusty nails to his ears.

Yeah, he did. He wanted to rip out her throat. But if he initiated contact, it would break his Seclusion. Orin was powerless to do anything. Avenging Mary wasn’t even an option.

Poor Mary.

His Mary.

Even though she would have never let Orin
keep
her, it didn’t change how he felt. And now she was dead, and the dead don’t come back.

Grief dragged Orin to his knees, and Rehbek’ah eased through the rows of chairs, her body liquid, moving in a way which suggested joints where there shouldn’t be any.

“I see you have finally learned how to properly greet your Queen.” She grinned, flashing fang.

“Why?”

Rehbek’ah circled him, one hand trailing close, but not quite touching. “I want you to understand, I will not take no for an answer. You are mine, and no one else can have you.”

Orin’s hands became fists. “Medan granted my freedom. Your Mother understood that.” And she had. Even though denying her had cost Orin his source for blood and flesh, she never interfered with his choice to try and be Human.

“I am not my Mother, Orin. She only wanted your services, whereas I want
everything.
Your body. Your mind.” She bent closer, and her scent billowed in the air. The RHage in Orin’s chest stirred. Rehbek’ah made a deep purring noise and rolled her head. “And your RHage. Or more precisely Serena’s.”

Orin stared at her, pure fear seizing up his veins. How could something so beautiful hold such insanity?

“God of Man, Orin, you should see the look on your face!” Rehbek’ah’s high-pitched laugh raked his nerves raw. “How long did you think your secret would stay hidden? The vessel for the most powerful Queen who ever ruled, a survivor of her assassination, and beholden to her first RHage. You are the treasure of treasures. And. You. Are. Mine. But then you have always been mine from the moment I laid eyes on you, and now there is no one to stand in my way. I will have you. I will mark you. I will own you. You will
Belong
!”

“No…” The shakes were back. Orin tried to stand and got three steps before his legs went out and he crashed into a row of desks. He fumbled for his cell phone, found it, only to drop it, his hands no longer wanting to work.

“What are you going to do, Orin?” He tried to ignore her and somehow managed to pick up the Samsung.
Dial, damn it
. It took everything to steady his fingers enough to hit the numbers. “Are you going to call for help? Call the
Chetrah
authorities. Do you really think they will help you? Do you really think they will rush to save the monster?” Rehbek’ah squealed again and came down beside him, rocking on her knees, her eyes liquid gold. “The Lesser-Bred called for you.”

Don’t look
. Orin kept his eyes on the phone.

“Oh, yes, she begged for your help.”

All of a sudden, Orin couldn’t see. He tried to wipe his eyes and wound up getting blood in them, along with tears. Rehbek’ah was too close. He could smell her. Feel her. And the thing inside him wanted her.

Rehbek’ah said, “Did you know she loved you, Orin?”

All his will power and all his control could not stop Orin from turning to her then. The look of glorious satisfaction on Rehbek’ah’s face made the pain in his chest explode. The RHage was nothing compared to this.

Rehbek’ah sucked in his scent and exhaled a purr. “You smell like
food
, Orin. I don’t know if I should fuck you or eat you.”

Phone. The phone is in your hand
. He had all the numbers in place. All he had to do was press Send.

She sighed. “If I had known it would be like this, I would have made you watch. Maybe I would have fed you her heart.”

Ignore her. Ignore her
. Orin tried to breathe, but his lungs felt packed with concrete.