DarkInnocence (9 page)

Ella’s voice drifted to me through the open door. “Put. It.
On. Dante’s just pulled up.”

I clutched my towel tighter and stuck my head out of the
closet. “How do you know that?” I asked.

She shrugged, flipped a page. “Heard the rumble of his
truck. Seriously, it’s just a dress, put it on.”

“It’s not just a dress,” I whined. “This my first real date,
it’s gotta be perfect.”

“Real? You’ve been fake-dating for the last four years? And
you’ve already broken the man’s nose—the date can only go uphill from there.”

She had a point. I let go of my towel and let it drop to the
ground. I shimmied the dress over my head, adjusted the slinky fabric over my
breasts so they were concealed and smoothed down the straight hem that sat high
on my thighs. I turned my head and caught my reflection in the mirror behind
me.

The back portion of the dress that hugged my hips and ass
was cinched so it pulled up at the center seam. The straps of the dress holding
the front in place split into four different strands at my collarbone and
crossed with the other side in the middle of my spine to leave my back almost completely
exposed.

Deciding this was the one, I grabbed a pair of heels and
moved into my bedroom.

“Wow,” Ella said. She threw the magazine to the bed and sat
up.

“You think it’s okay?” I asked.

“Okay? It’s—it’s…how are your boobs not popping out of that thing?”

I looked down at the exposed swells of my breasts. “I’m
twenty—gravity is still on my side.”

“Dante is gonna flip his switch when he sees you in that.”

“Good.” I leaned against the wall and slipped on one heel,
then the other. “Maybe we’ll actually have sex tonight.”

Ella lifted an eyebrow. “You haven’t done it yet? But you
said…”

“I know what I said, big mouth. Thanks for telling Micah, by
the way. We’ve done just about everything except actual penetration.”

My sister wrinkled her nose. “Don’t call it penetration,
sounds so clinical.”

“Dante is anything but clinical. The things that man can do
with his tongue, his fingers…”

Ella got this dazed, far-off look in her eyes as if she were
remembering something. A sappy smile spread her lips and just like that, my big
sister went all soft and feminine. “Micah does this twisting, flicking thing—”

“Hannah.” Dante’s voice carried down the hall and Ella
closed her mouth. “You ready, babe?”

He walked into my room, took one look at me, and his mouth
dropped open.

“That’s my cue to leave.” Ella rose off the bed, pressed a
quick kiss to my cheek, and exited. Her voice carried down the hall. “Don’t do
anything I wouldn’t do.”

Dante, looking sinful in a pair of black slacks and a white
button-down shirt that showed off his muscular shoulders and arms, swallowed.

“Is that dress legal?” he asked in a strangled voice.

I stopped in front of him and rested my hand on his chest,
over his heart. “You like it?”

He trailed a finger down the side of my throat, lower to
caress the line of my cleavage and below. He cupped my hip, fingers digging
into my skin as he grabbed my hand and brought it to his rock-hard cock.

“Like, darlin’, is an understatement.”

I stroked his shaft through his dark slacks, gave him a
little squeeze before I turned to my dresser. I opened a drawer and searched
through the scraps of lace.

“Now what are you doing?” he asked.

“I need panties.”

“You’re completely naked under that scrap of material?” He
came up behind me and the heat of his body lined my back. He pressed his
erection against my ass. “Are you trying to kill me, or is it just accidental?”

I looked up into the mirror and caught his gaze as he
reached around to my front and palmed my thigh. His golden eyes were molten,
the lids heavy. Even though he’d shaved, I could still see the slight
discoloration of stubble where it grew thickest around his mouth and along his
jaw. He scraped his hand up my leg, a slow tantalizing caress that stole my
breath.

The soft material of my dress pushed up higher and higher.
Goose bumps tightened my flesh and I had to close my eyes to block out the
addictive hunger so plainly written on his face. He curved his hand in,
knuckles brushing my slick curls. I sucked in a breath and parted my legs as he
cupped my pussy. I was wet and dripping with arousal.

“So wet.” He nipped my ear.

My lids fluttered open.

“That’s it baby, look at me while I finger fuck you. Know
who’s inside you, who’s going to make you scream.” He rubbed me slowly, the
tips of his fingers teasing the slit of my sex when he pressed the heel of his
palm against my clit.

I fought my moan. “The door’s still open.”

He rubbed harder, adjusted his stroke and pressed two
fingers deep. In, out. “Then you better be quiet.” His voice was a sexy
whispering rasp in my ear. His pace sped in a challenge he was sure to win.

“Oh god,” I panted.

“Do my fingers feel good in your pussy?”

I should have never admitted I liked it when he talked dirty
to me.

“Yes.” I lifted my hand and threaded it behind his neck to
hold him close.

“Do you want to come?”

I dug my fingers into his flesh and bit my lip to keep from
crying out. “Yes.”

He grabbed the hand I had behind his neck and placed it palm
down on the dresser. “Put both hands here and don’t move them. If you do, I’ll
stop touching you.”

My pussy throbbed and I did as I was told. Did he know how
his authority spurred an unspoken fantasy that I wanted to be dominated?

Dante pressed his lips against the side of my throat and
sucked the flesh into his mouth. In the reflection of the mirror, I watched us.
He trailed a finger along the pooling neckline, shoving the material to the
side until the dusky peak of my nipple came into view. He clamped the areola
between his fingers and drew a needy sound from my throat.

“You like that, don’t you. A little bit of pain.” Dante
scraped his teeth along my throat and made me purr.

He twisted my nipple at the same time he tapped my clit.
Once, twice. He pushed his fingers inside. He did it again and again, the sharp
bites of pain traveling from my breasts and adding to the sensation of his
fingers fucking me.

I cried out, my orgasm building deep and quick. My body
spasmed and I bent my fingers at the knuckles to claw at the smooth wood
beneath my palm.

He pulled his fingers out of my pussy and nipped my neck in
warning. A gush of moisture left me. “I told you not to move. Do you want me to
stop?”

I shook my head and the soft strands of my hair danced over
my shoulders. I flattened my palms like I’d been told and arched my back so I
could rub my ass against the hard ridge of his cock.

Through the reflection in the mirror, I experienced how I
affected him. His lids dipped and he growled low in his throat. The muscles in
his arms flexed with the steady movement of his hand bringing me closer and
closer to climax.

“That was naughty.” He abandoned my breast and slid his hand
up my chest. He cupped my throat, used a finger to tilt my head so his mouth
pressed comfortably against my ear. “For that, you don’t get to come until I
tell you to.”

As if he was handling an instrument, he played my body. He
plucked my nipples, stroked my clit and thrust long, thick fingers in and out
of my sex. Pressure built and built. Bound in his demands, I gave way to the
sensations. Stars danced in front of my eyes but I didn’t dare move my hands or
give in to orgasm for fear he’d pulled away.

The pressure tightened until I thought I was going to break
apart from the inside out.

“Please, Dante.” My voice was a husky whisper.

He flicked my G-spot and the ripples I couldn’t contain spread
through my body.

“Come,” he demanded.

God yes. Sensation rushed over me and I gave in to the
pleasure with a scream of release. My climax hit and hit hard. I stopped
breathing. I stopped existing. My nails scraped over wood and the only thing
holding me up was Dante’s strong presence behind me.

Once I stopped quivering and convulsing, he removed his hand
from between my thighs. I opened my lids, caught his gaze in the mirror as he
sucked his glistening fingers into his mouth and moaned. If it were possible, I
think I had another orgasm.

“You taste like honey.”

He wrapped a hand around my waist and spun us away from the
dresser. Legs tangled, we stumbled to the bed, the stiletto point of my heels
clicking on the hard floor. He pressed his mouth to mine for a long, passionate
kiss I returned with fervor.

He stroked a hand from my bared shoulder to the small of my
back. Angling his head, he cupped my throat and deepened our kiss. His tongue
parried with mine, a smooth, wet glide. When the mattress hit the backs of my
knees, he ripped our mouths apart and pushed me onto the bed.

I sat at the edge and reached for his zipper as he undid his
belt. His cock sprang free and I leaned forward to take him into my mouth. He
gripped the back of my head and thrust. I stroked his shaft and laved the metal
piercing. In and out, I hollowed my cheeks and took him into the back of my
throat.

“That’s it, baby, just like that. Been thinking about your
mouth all goddamn day. I’m gonna come soon.”

He pushed forward, thrusting deeper into my mouth as I
sucked and licked him. It didn’t take long before he gripped the back of my
neck and unloaded in my mouth. I swallowed, moaning at the rich taste of him.

Dante pulled out and tucked his glistening cock into his
slacks. He smiled down at me, a boyish grin that made my heart swell.

“Desert is better before dinner anyway. Come on beautiful,
put on some panties so I’m not tempted to fuck you on the way to the Vault, and
let’s go.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re taking me to your work for our first
date?”

His smile spread and he bent to press a soft kiss to my
lips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about where I’m taking you. I
got it covered.”

Dante and I exchanged stupid grins as the truck bounced over
the private driveway, leading away from the house and to the interstate. I sat
in the middle seat, my head on his shoulder, our clasped hands resting on his
thigh. I drew in a deep breath and took in as much of his scent as I could. I
was frighteningly delirious with happiness.

“What’s your favorite color?” he asked.

“Cerulean.”

He chuckled as if I’d said something funny and pressed a
quick kiss to my temple without taking his gaze from the road. “So in other
words, blue.”

I snuggled in closer and rubbed my cheek against the soft,
smooth material of his shirt. “No. Cer-u-le-an,” I drew the word out. “I like
the way it sounds.”

“Song.”

I pursed my lips, tried to pick just one. “
Where is my
Mind
by the Pixies.”

“
Fight Club
, damn good movie. Okay, food.”

I laughed at his rapid-fire questions. “What is this, an
interrogation?”

“Standard first-date procedure—getting to know each other
better. Need to see if we’re compatible or not.”

“All the pre-sex stuff we’ve done doesn’t count?”

He glanced away from the road and met my eyes. “Pre-sex?”

I shrugged. “Ya know, the foreplay. You going down on me, me
going down on you. What we did like ten minutes ago or did you forget already?”

He swiped his lower lip with his tongue and looked at me as
if he wanted to devour me all over again. “Babe, can’t forget when I can still
taste you, feel you clamping around me, still hear the needy little whimper
that vibrated my cock seconds before I came in your mouth. I might not have a
photographic memory like you, but those aren’t details I’ll ever let go.”

Heat infused my cheeks and I squirmed in my seat. “What was
the question?”

“Food.”

“Fillet mignon wrapped in bacon served on bed of caramelized
mushrooms. Oh, and I hate peas.”

“That was specific.”

I hit his shoulder. “You asked!”

He turned, caught my gaze for a second to smile at me. A
loud pop sounded and the car jerked to the side of the road. I let out a yelp
as the flap, flap, flap of deflated tire slapped the road.

“Shit.” Dante ripped his hand from mine and wrestled the
steering wheel to get the truck steady. The second he got control, another pop
sounded. The screeching of grinding metal accompanied the flapping. Rims
against road.

My heartbeat jacked up a notch and I gripped Dante’s thigh.

An engine revved behind us and I turned in my seat to look
out the back window. The glass shattered. I screamed, was already on my way to
ducking when Dante’s palm landed on the back of my head and forced me the rest
of the way down.

“Stay down, someone’s shooting at us.”

“How long can you drive with the tires flat?”

He gripped the steering wheel, glanced at the dwindling
speedometer. “Not long. Fuck.” He slammed his hand against the dash hard enough
for plastic to crack.

I struggled to open my purse so I could find my cell.
Another pop and the truck wobbled in an awful vibration I felt in the middle of
my stomach. My hand closed around my phone as something heavy, maybe another
car, crashed into the side of the truck on the driver’s side and sent the car
veering off to the right.

My purse crashed to the floor, taking my phone with it.

“In the glove compartment, there’s a gun.” Dante’s voice was
drowned out by the growl of us roaming over the rumble strip. We hit gravel.
“You know how to use one? It’s a GLOCK .9mm.”

“Ah…” I stammered. Through the trembles shaking my hand, I
managed to open the compartment and remove the surprisingly light black gun I
found inside. “I’ve never actually fired one before.”

My father’s words echoed in my head and I repeated them
aloud for Dante’s sake.

“Hold the grip of the gun with your dominant hand. The V
between your thumb and index finger should be along the rear of the grip. Wrap
your fingers comfortably around the grip and place your index finger alongside,
but not on, the trigger.

“Continue to point the gun in a safe direction and grasp the
steel slide of the gun with your opposite hand. Pull the slide back to allow a
round to move from the magazine to the chamber. Release the slide and allow it
to move completely forward. This will seat the round in the barrel and seal the
firing chamber.

“Use the sight on the top of the barrel to aim at your
target. Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. Keep your
hands steady with a firm grip on the handgun. Put your finger to the trigger
when you feel ready to shoot. Fire the gun by pulling the trigger in a slow, steady
motion. Remember, a GLOCK’s safety is on the trigger, so by pulling back the
trigger you are deactivating the safety of the handgun.”

“I swear to god,” Dante growled and I winced.

“Is that wrong?” My voice wavered. “It’s what my dad told me
when I was little.”

“We get out of this, your sister and I are going to have
words. Point and fire, aim for head, between the eyes if you can.”

Car doors opened, slammed shut. Each noise made me flinch. Whoever
had run us off the road was coming. Boots pounded pavement.

What Dante said sank in. He wanted me to shoot someone.
“What! No. I can’t shoot anyone.”

“Darlin’.” He gripped the back of my neck, squeezed. “You’ll
do what you have to do in order to survive. Stay low, outta sight as much as
possible, but if anyone comes near you, you shoot. Best I can tell, we’re
outnumbered four to two.”

His hold vanished and he was out of the truck. His roar of
rage lifted the hairs on the back of my neck. Flesh hit flesh. Someone grunted,
cursed. If I hadn’t been holding the gun, I might have stuck my fingers in my
ears so I didn’t have to conjure images with each pound and scuffle.

My heart pounded and where I clutched the gun, my hands
sweated. I looked up, out my window and screamed. Bright-blue eyes penetrated
my soul. A man, classically handsome with short spiky black hair and a rugged
jaw, stared at me. Long, sharp fangs extended and pressed against his thin
lower lip. I hit the locks as he reached for the door handle.

He grinned, gave me a little wave, and I scrambled to the
opposite side of the car. A glance at the side mirror showed me Dante—fingers
extended in long, sharp feline claws—fending off three vampires. The second he
fought one off, another rushed him. Their limbs moved in a flurry of punches,
each one I heard as it connected against bone and flesh.

“Unlock the door, Hannah.”

The sound of Mr. Restricted’s voice sent a shiver down my
spine.

“Fuck you.” I raised the gun, aimed it at his face.

If I were Ella, I’d have already fired. Then again, if I
were my badass sister, my hand wouldn’t have shaken so badly I couldn’t get a
good grip on the trigger. My stalker smiled at me and in my mind, his image
merged with Lizbeth’s. Pain pulsed where my neck met my shoulder, the spot the
vampire queen had repeatedly sunk her fangs into.

“How precious. Honey, you aren’t going to shoot me. Now be a
good girl and put down the gun.”

I repeated my father’s training and tried to take comfort in
the remembered sound of his voice echoing in my head as if he were speaking,
guiding me… “Raise the barrel of the gun to the target. Turn your free hand
palm up and place it underneath your dominant hand and cup the side of the hand
holding the gun and the bottom of the grip. Wrap your fingers and thumb around
the dominant hand to support it.”

As I said it, I did it.

“Place your finger on the trigger, take a deep breath and
hold it. Squeeze your hand around the grip of the gun to press the trigger. Do
not pull or yank on the trigger as this can cause your shot to pull to the
side.”

I held my breath, lined up the spot between Mr. Restricted’s
wide-set eyes and pressed the trigger. Two things happened at once—the recoil
sent my arm flying back and the window exploded. The ringing in my ears was so
fierce it made me dizzy. What it didn’t do was stop the vampire.

He reached into the shot-out window, popped the lock and,
calm as you please, opened the door. He climbed into the cab of the truck. I
tried to scramble back, but my spine was already pressed against the driver’s-side
door and window. I fumbled with the lock behind me, couldn’t pull up the knob.

Mr. Restricted reached for my ankle, his cold fingers
brushing against skin. I kicked his hand away, popped the button on the door
and shoved it open. I fell onto the gravel outside of the driver’s side and
smacked the back of my head on the hard ground.

We never stood a chance.

My vampire stalker vanished from inside the truck and
reappeared in front of me. He grabbed a fist full of my hair, yanked me to my
feet and spun me around so his chest lined my back. I grabbed his arm, ducked,
tried to gouge his legs with the points of my heels.

“Dante!” I screamed.

My lover turned at the sound of my voice, his face twisted
into a snarl of rage. Blood dripped from his eye, his nose, the corner of his
mouth. My head spun. My vision narrowed. No. No. No. Not the time to pass out!

I closed my eyes to block out the sight, but it didn’t help.
Once I saw something, I couldn’t un-see it. A cold, sharp blade pressed against
my neck and my struggles stopped. The urge to vomit faded and I dug my nails
into the forearm I tried to pry away from my throat.

“Valliant effort, lion, but you lose.” Mr. Restricted panted
against my ear and kept talking, “Stop resisting or I’ll slit her throat.”

Something large and heavy thudded to the ground and I opened
my lids. Dante, knees to the ground, head forced into a bowed position by three
vampires holding him, knelt a few feet away from me with his arms twisted
behind his back. His chest rose and fell with deep, angry breaths. He lifted
his head just enough to meet my gaze.

In warning, the edge of the blade against my throat pressed
deeper and nicked skin. I barely felt the pain, not when the sorrow in Dante’s
eyes hurt so much worse.

Tears pricked the backs of my eyes.

“Fight like hell, Hannah. No matter what they say or promise
you, they’re going to kill me in the end, you remember that. Don’t let them use
me as leverage.”

“Tranq him,” Mr. Restricted ordered.

“No!” I screamed, struggled, sent the knife against my skin
digging deeper.

One of the vampires holding Dante let go long enough to
withdraw a capped syringe from his breast pocket. He popped off the lid,
plunged the needle into Dante’s jugular and injected.

Dante’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and his face
went slack. The vampires let go and my fierce lion fell face-first on the side
of the road. Mr. Restricted dropped the blade at my throat, grabbed my arm and
dragged me to the waiting black Lincoln town car. One of the vampires opened
the door for him and Mr. Restricted nodded his thanks.

He shoved me into a backseat that was separated from the
front by a black glass partition. “Put the shifter in the trunk, we’re taking
him with us. I plan on making him watch.”

I settled against the far side of the car and tried the
door. Locked. The second my stalker slid in beside me, his door shut from the
outside and sealed us inside together.

“Alone at last. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Cash
Vladimir, former guard to the queen.”

I glowered at the hand he held for me to shake. The entire
car rocked as Dante’s limp body was dumped in the trunk. The thunk of the lid
shutting made my stomach hurt.

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

He licked his lips and trailed his gaze down the line of my
chest where, despite the odds, my breasts were still concealed. “Everything.”

I wrinkled my noise at him. “How very specific of you,” I
said in disgust.

His blue eyes glowed even brighter. “You’re to become my
vampire queen.”

“You’ve got me confused with my sister. I’m not a vampire.”
I stated the obvious and figured if he was talking, he wasn’t hurting me. The
longer I stayed alive, the better. Eventually someone would notice Dante and I
weren’t where we were supposed to be.

The car pulled onto the freeway and the sudden acceleration
forced me back against the seat.

“No,” Cash said. “But you will be after I turn you. Julian
thinks he can just take whatever he wants.” He curled his hands into fists. “He
is nothing more than a pussy-whipped pretty-boy. Rumor has it, Lizbeth’s unique
genetics run through your familial line. If your sister became a queen, it
stands to reason so will you.”

“I was adopted.”

“Nice try. I’ve done my research well, even had a DNA test
done to confirm what I already knew.”

I didn’t even want to know how he’d obtained a sample of my
DNA.

“My sister is going to tear you apart limb from limb.”

“Your sister is nothing but a child.”

“Where are you taking us?”

“Somewhere private—a place where we can take our time and
get acquainted with each other.”

He slid across the seat and stroked a finger down my cheek.
I recoiled, tried to scoot away but I was already backed into the corner.

“Such soft skin,” he purred, cupping my cheek. “I bet you
taste amazing.”

Cash gripped my thigh with one hand, my hair with the other.
He yanked me against him. I balled my fist, slammed it against his cheek. His
head reared back from the blow, but he didn’t let me go.

“You’ll pay for that, you little bitch,” he snarled and spit
a mouthful of blood in my face.

The warm spray hit my mouth and cheeks as he pinned me to
the seat. He pressed his hips between my legs, forcing my thighs apart. Blood
dripped from his mouth and the second my gaze locked onto the red liquid, the
spins started. His cock was hard and disgusting against the core of me.