Vampire Legacy (Book 4 of the Dragon Heat series) (20 page)

Oh dear.

Without warning, Petran bit her on the neck, just above her collarbone, and a new wave of pleasure overwhelmed her. As he drank from her, his cock grew even thicker inside her, stretching her beyond possible.

And then it happened.

The throbbing intensified to impossible levels exploding into a million pieces. A powerful wave, like an electric current, surged through Talia’s body making her tremble, shake, and cry out all at the same time. It was the most amazing feeling she’d ever experienced in her life.

She vaguely heard Petran roar on top of her as his release consumed him too.

Mighty Soartas, how mistaken the nuns at the boarding school had been.

Chapter Twenty Two

Faint sounds of commotion near the front gates brought Petran back from his slumber. What in Hiad was happening out there? He slowly unlocked his arm from beneath Talia’s naked body, being careful not to wake her up, then pushed off the bed and looked out of the window. Unlike the Vampire sleeping quarters, which were located on the underground levels, Natalia’s room was on the highest floor of the three story castle giving him a better vantage point, but not much. The tall walls blocked any possibility of viewing what was happening.

On the bed, Talia stirred but did not wake up. He gazed at her not knowing what to do with the growing tightness in his chest. How could the prospect of leaving her bed be so painful? He frowned. How strange, but leave he would. She was delicious and had captured his attention, but she was also the daughter of a draconian senator. She was not vampire, and he, as she pointed out herself, was married.

There was no future for them, and that was the true reality.

With a sad sigh—one that sounded utterly strange to his own ears—he bent down, kissed her forehead, then covered her slight shoulders with the blanket, and
clouded out
through the open window.

A mob of curious guests had filled the corridors. They were all moving towards the front gates, whispering sensational questions and absurd possibilities. No one amongst them knew what the commotion was really about so could not assist him.

Petran took shape on the outskirts of the gardens, careful not to be seen materializing and thus revealing his secret weapon. The inquisitive horde was so fixated on the news of the eve that no one noticed him.

Good.

The sound of gates creaking open caught his attention. Slowly, the solid cedar portal descended revealing what had caused all the fuss. Through the widening gap, Petran spotted three massive shadows shapeshift just beyond the outer walls. Large horns, furry legs, and yellow glowing eyes gave way to human limbs.

“Damn the gates of Hiad,” Petran growled.

The Daemons from the Dry Lands had decided to join the party.

**********

“Come, come, my friends,” Kalaur called out, as he tried to make his way through the crowd.

The three daemons, now in their human form, strolled through the gates and greeted the beaming host. Their characteristic horns were hidden under tall turbans but their round faces and far-apart eyes were a dead giveaway of their race.

“We are so glad you made it,” Kalaur stated with open arms.

“Speak for yourself, dragon,” someone muttered near Petran.

He turned around to find the owner of the amusing remark, Oberon, standing behind him.

“I didn’t know they had confirmed their presence,” Petran whispered.

“They didn’t,” his fae friend replied.

“Why are they here then?” Petran asked, already knowing the answer.

Oberon just lifted a bushy eyebrow at him. There was no need to verbalize what was evident.

“We are honored to be here,” the deamon leader said, clasping his forearm to Kalaur’s, in the traditional greeting. His name was Sultan Osman the Third, a ruthless leader who had been trying to take over Eastern Europe for the past three centuries. Petran had no quarrels with daemons. He had even met a few friendly fellows in his travels, and found their devilish sense of humor quite amusing at times. But Sultan Osman was different.

“Oberon, will you welcome our new guests?” Kalaur called out from a few feet ahead.

“Bullocks,” Oberon growled low to Petran, but then stepped forward.

As the Open Games official master of ceremony, Oberon’s job was to announce any late guests and changes to the agenda.

He took his position in front of the newcomers and cleared his throat. “Dear Sons of Apa Sâmbetei,” he bellowed formally. “I have great news. Our Desert brothers have joined us in the festivities. Please welcome the Sultan and his crew.”

Uninspired clapping echoed all around. It was clear Petran was not the only one who found the news not so
great
.

Kalaur took the lead and guided his guests, or so it appeared, into the castle.

Petran chose to stay behind. He did not like the change of events even a small bit.

“Our event was already dark with the draco rebels threatening to decimate anyone who dared go outside to play,” Oberon muttered beside Petran. “And now this. I should have called in sick.”

“You are right as always, my friend,” Petran replied, deep in thought. “But they do have the right to attend, even though they never have participated in the Open Games before.”

“That’s what intrigues me the most,” the burly fae added, agreeing with Petran. “Osman has always chosen to ignore our invitations. So why now?”

“Very well put, Oberon. Why now indeed.” 

Petran scratched his short beard the way he always did when deep thoughts troubled him. He feared the sudden presence of the Daemons had everything to do with what had happened earlier. Milek, the foolish rebel, had managed not only to give Kalaur the perfect excuse to return the attack in kind, but also to call for reinforcements.

Great.

Chapter Twenty Three

The following day came to pass as if nothing bad had happened. The morning festivities took place according to plan, and the nocturnal competitions were going at full blast. The only difference was Talia herself.

She had woken up sore, and to an empty bed. Her legs and the sensitive area between her legs were achy when she walked and even more when she sat down, but the strangest thing was her inmã, her soul. It felt like she had blossomed, as if no matter how grim her future looked, everything was going to be all right.

“What’s got into you?” her father asked, as she helped him into his formal clothes.

“Nothing,” she murmured, but knew she was failing at masking the constant grin from her face. “I’m just happy that you’re feeling better, Father.”

He
humphed
in reply, but didn’t question her further. Good, because Talia truly doubted her muddled up mind would be able to conjure a more elaborated lie. By Apa Dobrý, she was in a constant state of bliss. It was starting to annoy her actually, because every second or so, memories of her hours in Petran’s arms would pop into her head. His soft touch, his muscled torso moving on top of her, his caring hands and amazingly expert tongue as it pleasured her.
Oh dear.
There she went again, thinking and sighing over him.

“There’s something definitely wrong with you, my daughter. You are blushing.”

“It’s nothing, Father. It’s just a bit stuffy in here,” she replied quickly.

“Nonetheless, perhaps you should stay in your bed tonight.”

May I have visitors?
“I am fine,” she replied aloud. “Let’s get going, otherwise we’ll miss the entire competition.”

As she helped her father out the door, Talia forced her face to somber up. She had to get a grip on herself or everyone at the Games would see through her, especially the viper, Hillia.

Thankfully, when they got to the royal box, the Vampire Queen was nowhere in sight. Neither was Petran though. Talia’s heart sank a little bit. She was looking forward to seeing him again and maybe to find some quiet corner in which to talk to him.

Her father took his favorite seat on the far end of the podium and slumped down. He was feeling better, but was far from being his robust self. Talia took the chair next to him, greeting Oberon and his Fae wives. The master of ceremonies and King of the Fae people had chosen to bring only two of his many wives this time. They were shy but pleasant company.

Down in the battle arena, the stage was set with five red apples hanging from tall poles. On the opposite end, five archers prepared to shoot. A horn echoed loudly, and then half of a second later, the whooshing sound of arrows thrilled the audience. It was all over in a matter of moments. The crowd cheered the winner, who simply lifted his bow in the air and greeted his supporters with a cocky smile. His deep green eyes and dark glossy hair contrasted boldly with his alabaster skin. When the young vampire lifted his face to the royal box, a small frown marred his victory smirk. Talia at once knew Tardieh, like her, had expected his father to be there. She had heard of the discordances between the two but thought, like everyone else had, that the vampire prince could care less for his father’s approval. But now, she wasn’t so sure anymore. 

A shuffling of chairs made her turn her attention to the main entrance. A couple of razbian serfs were making way moving the furniture around. A moment later, three massive men walked in. The first one, a tall man with olive skin, a bushy beard, and glowing yellow eyes looked straight at her. He wore a high white turban, which matched the furry collar of his red cloak. His presence was very arresting and radiated confidence.

The word
danger
whispered in Talia’s mind.

Uncomfortable by the intensity of his yellow gaze, she quickly glanced away.

“Good eve, Sultan Osman,” her father drawled with a short bow. “Apologies for not standing up, but my frail body is still recovering from an inopportune illness.”

“No matter. I greet thee, Somenski the Truthful, Draconian Lord of Moldavia,” Osman replied somberly. “I am glad the Soartas have granted you a few more years in this realm.”

By Apa Dobrý, how formal this man could be.

“Yes, they did,” her father replied. “And hopefully, not only years, but a few more centuries.”

The Sultan nodded agreeably, but his somber features failed to reflect any amicability.

At that moment, Kalaur walked in and stole the deamon away, offering them to take a seat at the opposite end of the open room. Talia released the breath she wasn’t even aware she was holding. Never had she thought she would be glad for Kalaur’s presence.

The contests came and went, warriors rose and fell, and as if all was well in the world, the second day of the Open Games eventually came to an end.

And still nothing of Petran.

With sadness clouding her heart, Talia accompanied her father back to the castle. When they reached the main foyer, she spotted a group of dignitaries enjoying some sort of liquor.

“Ah, Somenski, my friend,” Lindworm, the Scandinavian Dragon Lord, bellowed. He had obviously had one too many drinks. “Petran told me you were better!”

Petran? Was he here?
Talia glanced around, trying to keep the butterflies in her stomach from taking flight, but there was no need. Disappointment settled them down when she could not find the owner of her dreams.

“Come, you must try this cognac from St. Même Les Carrieres,” Lindworm slurred, already pouring her father a glass. “It’s simply divine.”

Her father unhooked himself from her protective embrace and reached for the glass eagerly.

“Father, I’m not sure you should have it,” Talia said, truly concerned about his testing his health a bit too much for an evening.

“Oh, nonsense,” he replied, swallowing a large gulp from the honey colored liquid. “Aaaahhhh!” He exhaled. “I must confess the worst thing about this bloody illness was the food.”

The other leaders laughed aloud as Lindworm topped off her father’s glass. “Go, Lady Natalia,” he told her. “I can take your father upstairs after we finish here. Kalaur is supposed to join us soon as well.”

“But…” She tried to contest the obviously foolish idea but her father cut off her objection.

“Oh, daughter, what can happen? If I fall down the stairs I will go down happy.”

This ignited another roar of laughter.

Talia was concerned about her father overstretching his flailing health, but seeing him laugh aloud like that warmed her heart. It had been a long time since he last enjoyed a good drink with his mates.

“As you wish, Father,” she replied, giving him a peck on the cheek. Then, she resumed her stroll up the stairs toward her quarters.

When she turned onto the long corridor where her room was located, she found Martha, her chambermaid standing anxiously by her door. Their eyes met, and Talia was about to ask what the matter was, when Martha’s contorted face threw her off. She wore her pouty mouth pursed into a thin line and her eyes were wide, yet unwavering, as if trying to tell her something but couldn’t. Had her old maid finally lost the plot?

Determined to find out what had turned her maid into a dancing monkey, she strolled down the corridor only to be pulled sideways by strong arms.

Argh! Not again!

Talia stumbled and nearly lost her ground as her captor dragged her into a dark room. She heard the door click shut behind her, and readied herself to scream her lungs out when the delicious scent of wild mint reached her nose. The same strong arms enveloped her waist, and a soft yet firm mouth found hers.

“Oh, Petran,” she murmured against his lips, locking her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

“I thought you’d never leave your father,” he growled, nipping gingerly at her lower lip. “What’s the point of conjuring the perfect plan if your counterpart doesn’t cooperate?”

“Well, the said counterpart might have been more obliging had she known there was a plan,” she replied teasing him back.

A low chuckle reverberated in his chest. “It was Martha’s job to warn you, but the woman is incapable of improvising. Now, Kalaur’s seneschal is after you, and I simply cannot wait any longer.”

“Kalaur’s seneschal is…?” His mouth muffled her question and captured hers in an ice-melting kiss. A shudder ran up her spine and fire ignited in her core.

His mouth devoured hers while his hand massaged her breast, teasing the tip through the fabric. Talia returned his fervor in kind, encouraging him to go further with low moans of approval. He understood, and complied.

Oh, yes.

She cared not that they were trapped inside some kind of walk-in closet, or that it was utterly wrong and immoral to be someone’s lover. All that mattered right now was Petran’s lips on hers and the amazing sensations he was stirring inside her.

“Where were you the whole night long?”

“I had unexpected business matters to attend,” he replied, nibbling on her shoulder.

“Like finding out why the Desert Daemons decided to attend the games?”

He paused and gazed at her, or rather she believed he gazed at her because she could not see a thing.

“Your cunning mind never fails to surprise me, Lady Natalia,” he murmured. “And by Apa Dobrý, you smell amazing,” he added, before tracing his tongue down into the vale between her breasts.

He let out a low growl then bent her backwards at the same time his clever fingers undid the ties on her corset. At once, the gown became loose and slid downward, freeing her breasts from their prison. She felt moist lips capture one tip, which turned into a pebble instantly, but he didn’t stop there. His other hand pulled her dress further down, all the way to her feet, and then reached underneath her pantaloons finding her sweet spot.

“Oh, Mighty Soartas, yes!” Talia’s exclamation was followed by a strangled moan.

“You are wet already, my sweet,” Petran growled against her stiff nipple, but Talia barely registered his words. The mind-blowing need had begun again. Her hips rocked back and forth, in keeping with his fingers on her sex. The familiar throbbing flared between her legs, burning every ounce of reason out of her mind.

She heard him shuffle, and suddenly his mouth was no longer on her breast but between her legs. Her back hit something solid as he lifted her legs up and off the ground, while holding her lower labia captive. His tongue entered her and lapped at her most sensitive skin, driving her to insanity.

Talia clasped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to quell her high-pitched yelps, which became uncontrollable and as uncontainable as her need for release.

Out of nowhere, he pulled away.

No!
Her mind cried out.

She heard more shuffling, then his arms wrapped around her. “I want to take you again, my sweet. I need to be inside you before I lose my mind.”

All she could do was nod. She just hoped he could see more than she could because there was no way her crazed-by-need mind could form any words. In a strange split-second of consciousness, she realized the lack of light was making her even more aroused. She didn’t know what he’d do next, and every time he touched her, moved his mouth, or brushed a finger on her, it was a delicious surprise.

In kind, his next move certainly made her jump.

He swiveled her around and bent her over.

And then licked her from behind.

“Oh, dear,” she cried out.

“Shh,” he whispered against her bare back. “Everyone will be able to hear you.”

“But…” Any thoughts of retorting deserted her when his hand reached around, clasping her sex between his ridged cock and his palm, while shoving his middle finger into her mouth.

“Suck it the way you did my cock last night,” he growled.

She complied. His rude choice of words stirred her even deeper, as if waking the wanton inside her.

It was all so unbelievably baffling. The more she sucked, the harder he rubbed her. She couldn’t see him, so all she had was the feeling of his naked cock rubbing between her butt cheeks and his fingers massaging her cleft. Oh, Mighty Soartas, she was about to explode. She could feel juice dripping down her legs, so desperately aroused as she was. The scent of sex and desire saturated the air.

With a low growl, which reminded her of a feral animal and not a vampire, Petran removed his hand from her mouth and goaded her to bend down lower, while keeping her legs straight. Her hands hit shelves and she held on, unable to even contemplate what he was doing and loving it even more because of it. Dear gods, she was a wanton.

Strong hands held her in position while his cock slid inside her wet core.

Even though he penetrated her slowly, as if testing her acceptance, Talia was utterly surprised, and thanked Apa Dobrý, that she managed to mute down her cry just in time. Unlike the previous night, his thickness did not upset her this time. On the contrary, his cock actually felt deliciously rigid and filled her perfectly.

It felt amazing.

So, she reached behind and with her hand, encouraged him to go further.