[Draven's Crossing 1] Hidden Diversions (20 page)

“Isy,” he panted. “Please.” Torger was now begging, and he didn’t care one bit how it would look.

She released his cock with a pop.

“Please,” he said again, his voice a deep, rough growl he didn’t recognize.

“Please what?” she asked as she dipped her head to delicately trace her tongue around his cock, flicking the V at the base of his crest.

Torger’s toes curled as another blast of heat and pressure filled his body. He gritted his teeth, trying to remember what it was that he was doing. His thoughts had shattered completely. She repeated the action and he swore.

“Please, what, Torger?” She blew on his sensitive flesh. Fingers of desire scratched at the walls of his stomach as his muscles clenched. Sweat drenched his face, chest and arms.

He licked his lips as he tried to figure out what she was asking and what he was supposed to say. “Please,” he tried again. “Come.”

“You want to come?” she asked as she flicked her tongue over his slit.

He nodded. “Yes,” he rasped out.

“Okay.” With that single word she lowered her head again and took him back into her mouth, swallowing him down in one gulp. Her throat clenched around him as her hands gently massaged his balls. He let go the wave within and gave himself up to the tension until it exploded, taking him down until he was consumed in fire. Electricity buzzed around his balls, up and down his spine and around his head as he came, his body shaking. Isy’s mouth continued to work his cock until she swallowed every drop of his seed.

Silence filled his head as he floated on a cloud of bliss. He felt the bed shake but couldn’t give a hoot about what was going on. She pulled off the blindfold. Torger hissed as he felt the press of Isy’s overheated body against his. He looked up and saw her breasts were perfectly placed over his face. If he could, he would have lifted his head to suck one thick nub into his mouth, but he didn’t have the energy. All he could do was
stare
. His arms were lowered from their overhead position, and Isy massaged his shoulders and each arm in turn right down to his hands. There wasn’t even the sensation of a thousand ants crawling over his skin or the painful prickle of holding his arms in a position for too long.

Everything was comfortable, warm and safe. When he felt the drag of a damp, warm rag over his chest, stomach and around his groin, he didn’t comment. He closed his eyes and allowed Isy to take care of him. She would protect him, keep him safe, and now he knew she could give him what he wanted sexually, even if he hadn’t thought it would work out.

He wondered if she would be willing to allow him to tie her down and pleasure her. The scent of her desire still floated on the air, and he could taste her banked need, but she said nothing about her current aroused state.

“Isy,” he
started,
his voice gruff and slurred.

“Shhh, it’s okay; just relax. No need to take care of me yet. Just recover and then you can tie me down and make me cry out.” Isy pressed a kiss on his thigh as she got off the bed and returned a minute later to finish cleaning off his dick.

Goddess, Isadora was truly perfect.

* * * *

“Stay away from me!” Michaela screamed as she threw a vase at his head.

Abbott ducked out of the way and kept running after her. Sweat bathed his face, and his shirt was stuck to his back. His fist clenched the large syringe. He had to get her back to his house; his DNA was all over the place.
I have to call Ariel to come clean this mess up.

Michaela stopped running, yanked a sword off the wall and then rushed at him with the weapon. A warrior scream echoed in a language he didn’t understood. All he knew was he had to avoid getting skewered. She lunged at him and the sharp edge sliced a neat opening in his shirt, barely missing his flesh by millimeters.

Abbott called upon the gifts his maker had bestowed upon him to make him stronger and faster. His gums ached and bled as hunger ticked in his veins and pinged around his stomach. His muscles heated up as he sped around her and grabbed her wrist. He wrenched the sword from her grip. She let out a howl of pain as she sank to her knees. Her hand was pulled back in an odd angle.

He didn’t give it much thought. Instead, he took the pause in the action to jam the needle into her neck and depressed the plunger. She let out a scream, eyes widening, pupils dilated and body shuddering as her small mouth fell open. Finally, she fell to the floor in a heap, eyes lifeless, body slack, and wrist broken.

Abbott drew in a deep breath, smoothed his shirt down and looked around. A quiet calm descended upon him. Michaela was done. No more fighting. He could focus as the haze of need turned to a simmering heat in his body, but the hunger continued to beat in his blood. A swift assessment of the situation showed that the condo was a complete mess. There was no time to get things cleaned up. He saw droplets of blood on the floor. The distant howl of sirens drew his attention. The sound was too close for his comfort.

“Damn it.” He spat out. There was nothing he could do except pray that the blood was hers and he hadn’t left behind any DNA that could lead back to him. He gathered up Michaela’s lifeless body, grabbed his coat and rushed out of the house, leaving the door open behind him. There was no use in trying to hide now. One more offering to Isy to show his affection for her and this last body was perfect for his ritual. He sped through the dank, damp back streets of Draven’s Crossing until he got home.

“Ariel!
Ariel
get
in here!
” he shouted as he entered his house. His progeny milled around the living room, watching some program featuring a shouting chef. They gazed at him as one, hunger in their eyes.

Ariel appeared in a flash, chest heaving, panting out a breath. She bowed before him.
“Master?”

“Get my lab ready. Send out a group of children to the all night florists, take the petty cash and make sure they’re not seen. I need at least a hundred perfect roses, different hues and colors.” He shifted his burden in his arms and gazed around the room. Abbott had acquired at least twenty children over the years, carefully selected from the homeless and runaways. No one anyone would miss. “Build a pyre stage and then call Ivan. I’m going to need his help.”

Without any explanation, he went to his lab and deposited Michaela’s body onto a stainless steel examination table. His hands shook as he pulled back.
One last body, one last offering.
This one had to be right. She had to understand this gift,
had to
. Ariel came into the room as Abbott began stripping off his clothes. He handed them to Ariel. “Burn them.”

She gave him a phone, which he accepted with some trepidation. Ivan Evanson wouldn’t be happy.

“What? I’m busy over here.” Evanson’s tone was clipped and heated with anger.

“We have a problem. I found another candidate, Isadora Jones’ assistant, but she fought me. We were loud. I need you to step in.” Abbott waited for Evanson to shout at him.

“Fine but she better
have
been worth it. I’ll give them something else to chase.” Evanson hung up without a good-bye.

Abbott felt uneasy. He didn’t like what Evanson did, not in the least, but it was necessary to advance their ideals. The Councils’ ideals, even if they didn’t know it. Cold air caused goose bumps to rise over his bare skin. Rather than get dressed he got to work, first dragging two canisters over to the table, arranging Michaela’s body and readjusting the table so that she was strapped in and hung upside down. He slashed at one of her wrists and allowed the blood to start draining into the metallic bucket. It would take some time, so for now he had to establish an alibi.

He headed upstairs and showered then came downstairs to the living room where he settled in on a couch. Normally, he hated to interact with his children but this was necessary. He picked up the remote and brought up the DVR menu, selected an episode of a show that had aired an hour ago and began to watch the show about overly tanned people running a business and partying on the weekends. His stomach rebelled at the drivel, but he had to know every second of the show in order to prove that he was indeed here. His children would give him an alibi, no problem, but no one would believe them. They all had that glassy eyed drugged-out look that made people unreliable.

Besides that, he didn’t want the police to look too closely at some of his progeny. The younger ones had parents that were looking for them and until he was done with them he wouldn’t be giving anyone back.

* * * *

Evanson walked around the cage. “Is he ready for another venture out?”

The doctor in the lab coat looked over the chart.
“Yes, sir.
He fed last night but could use another hour or two out. He’s been a bit aggressive.” The doctor gazed at him expectantly.

Evanson moved closer to the cage and stuck his hand in, ignoring the gasp from the doctor. “I need you to behave, okay?”

The man in the cage pressed his face against Ivan’s palm and purred. He gazed at Evanson with pained brown-green eyes. His mottled skin shifted from tan to alabaster and back to bronze. He nodded at Ivan.

“Good boy. You’ll also be getting a new infusion soon, something to help with the pain. I promise. You’ve been so good to me so far. Don’t fail us now.” Evanson smiled and turned to the doctor. “Prep him. My assistant will give the address.”

Evanson left as a ripple of heat rolled over him. Pain lanced his stomach. He gritted his teeth to hold back the howl of pain that formed in his throat. His hands shook as he staggered up the stairs. He rushed to the nearest bathroom and threw open the medicine cabinet, shoving various bottles around until he found the right one, popped the top and shook the contents out into his mouth. He just wanted the heat and ache to stop. Evanson swallowed down the tablets and sank to his knees as the fire in his body increased and the ache grew until it shuddered down his arms.

He curled up in a ball, tears in his eyes as he allowed his symptoms to take over his body, praying for it to end.

Chapter Eleven

NO STATUS UPDATES.

Nothing to report.
-Isadora Jones, DC News Blast

Detective Santa Rosa looked around the room. She could smell the slight sweetness of decay that vampires couldn’t cover up, well as far as shifters were concerned, and yet this one had a bit of bite to it. And then there was the earthiness of the Elves mingled into it along with the metallic tang of blood. It looked like an enraged teenager’s room with things broken and thrown around carelessly but no sign of the vampire or elf. The coroner had said the blood they’d found on the scene was vampire mixed in with elf but until she could run tests to determine if it was the same person or two different people and what their sexes were, they had only the neighbors accounts to go on.

Her full body suit and booties crunched as she walked around the place. Since this wasn’t a murder she hadn’t called in Torger. As far as the DCPD was concerned until proven otherwise it was a domestic altercation gone bad. Right now their techs were combing through the security footage to see who Michaela O’Connor, Isadora Jones’ assistant, had come home with. Neighbors hadn’t really paid much attention until they heard screams and shouting and things breaking. Other than that, they minded their own business. It was a nice area, quiet, filled with the working lower middle class.

She looked around. Every condo looked alike with the exception of the yards. Some had gardens or trees or just grass but that was it. White siding, same number of windows, all neat little houses that were only a few feet apart, yet no one had heard or seen anything to really help her. She shook her head.
I’m getting too old for this shit.
Alyssa turned and went back into the house. Sweat bathed her face as a roll of thunder sounded in the distance. She put her goggles back on, pulled the mask back up and entered Michaela’s home.

Police officers milled around and someone with intelligence had called the HellHound unit. It irked her that they didn’t consult her, she was ranking officer here, but she decided not to bite someone’s head off. If this got them answers faster, then whatever. She walked around the scene one more time.