Eight

At midnight—well, 12:04, Paris was full of twisting side streets, sue her—she stood in front of a dirty building that greatly resembled a parking garage. But this was the address, she’d even used GPS on her phone and asked some people on the street in her broken, poor French and their equally broken, heavily-accented English. The building was cement blocks, with certain large square parts cut out in favor of metal doors, the kinds that slid up and down, as in garages. There were no windows, and humans would have barely heard music, but her enhanced hearing let her clearly hear the pounding bass and even a couple higher tones from the other wide of what must have been an actually thick wall.

Cass stepped around to the side, and grinned. There was dim, reddish light spilling out of the building at the far end of the alley, and people crammed together against both walls. She stepped in, and the music grew louder with each person she passed, looking for Marco.

Fingers snagged her wrist suddenly and she was pulled forward and to the side. Her lip curled and she made to twist out of the grip when it suddenly disappeared, instead replaced by a heavy arm draping lightly and loosely across her shoulders. She followed the bicep at her shoulder up to Marco’s face grinning down at her, eyes glittering.

“You made it after all,” he praised, and she rolled her eyes, smirking.

“I’m sure you survived the four minutes I spent trying to get out of the maze that is this city,” she said dryly.

His eyes widened slightly, as did his grin, but when his mouth opened another voice cut over his, this one smooth, sharp, and cold as a steel blade.

“Ah, the maze,” Cass looked to see a girl step to the side, around Marco. “I’ve always wondered if that was on purpose, since it is so much more fun to hunt with the challenge,” the girl drawled, pink-glossed lips curling and enjoying each word. Her blonde hair fell slightly over her cheek, but that only enhanced her perfect combination of beautiful and predatory. In the shadow, Cass couldn’t see her eyes other than they were dark and narrowed and scanning her up and down in great detail. She was gorgeous though, the little light casting one light cheek, a small nose, full lips, long blonde curls, and curves encased in a tight leather top.

Cass wondered if she should be nervous. She certainly registered that this girl looked and acted like a threat, and her spine stiffened as her senses narrowed in on the blonde. But Marco was still standing casually, and even glanced back at the blonde and gave a loose grin.

“Claws in, she’s cool,” he chuckled, looking back at Cass. “Cass, meet my twin, Zara.”

At that, the blonde immediately straightened and stepped fully around to stand next to Marco, her whole face lightening. She had a kind, polite expression, but Cass noticed she hadn’t relaxed and her whole aura still held calculation and…control, over herself, over the entire situation. Cass found she admired it greatly.

“Welcome to Paris,” Zara’s voice and grip was light. “My brother really has talked my ear off about you already, but you don’t seem half as annoying as he is, so it’s nice to meet you,” she smirked, and Cass found herself matching it. Marco frowned indignantly.

“As if you’re not annoying with all your blab about shopping and hair styles and nail paint, or whatever,” she quipped. Zara raised her eyebrows, but Cass beat her to a retort.

“She’s just trying to get you to think about appearance and hygiene, not her fault you don’t understand,” she teased, nudging his elbow with her shoulder. Zara sent her a mischievous grin, then a victorious raise of her eyebrows at her brother.

“Great, you’ve known each other for two minutes and you’re already ganging up on me,” Marco grumbled playfully, shaking his head at the woe of it. The three continued for another twenty minutes until, finally, they were stepping over the threshold and into the dim red entryway. Zara talked and teased casually, but Cass never saw the steel really leave her voice, face, or body.

“This is one of our favorites because the building isn’t privately owned, so we can be invited in,” Marco explained when Cass did a double glance at the doorway. She nodded, understanding and grinning. Zara had already disappeared through the black, glittery streamers that made a curtain over the entry to the club’s main room.

“Also,” he continued, “don’t mind Zara. She’s always like that, but she’s not a bitch, really…we’ve been through some shit, and it just took a bit of a harder toll on her.” Cass wanted to know what, the question already forming in her mouth before the bit her lip in caution. They’d lived about a century, a lot probably did happen. He saw it, but didn’t give much.

“We’re twins, but we’re still people, we deal with it differently sometimes,” he shrugged. She decided not to push it—she’d barely known him for twenty-four hours, and it was obviously big. Cass shrugged before smirking and, with an overdramatic flourish that earned a deep chuckle behind her, pushed aside the glittery streamer-curtain and stepped into a huge room, practically empty except for the mostly-hidden booths surrounding the edges and the stage where a large, intricate-looking DJ set up stood.

The stage was relatively small, and the booths all looked tucked into the walls, making the plain wooden dance floor the main area. The floor was covered in sparkles, glittering streamers that had fallen from the ceiling or people, and Cass glimpsed a plastic cup or two dropping. The ceiling was a jungle of beams, lights, and streamers draped among it all. There was a bar taking up the entire wall directly opposite the DJ, packed at least two or three people deep, and Cass wondered how the glass bottles stacked against each other on the thin shelves didn’t constantly shatter with how fast the three bartenders took them out, put them back, and the pounding music and walls.

“Put this on,” came Zara’s voice, cool air circling her ear and an equally cool palm on her wrist indicating where the girl was. Even with her enhanced hearing, Cass could barely hear her. Zara’s fingers pushed a rubbery, neon green bracelet with bold, black numbering into her hand, and Cass slipped it over her fingers.

“It’s for the booths. They’re private, you won’t be let in without one. The number is which one is ours.” Cass nodded, and when she turned, all she caught was a flash of blonde disappearing through bodies.

“Come on, then, when in Rome,” Marco winked, fingers latching through hers as he tugged her into the mass. Cass squirmed, freeing her fingers as soon as he stopped walking forward, placating his slightly bewildered expression with a smirk. It worked, because he grinned and then looked forward.

And now was the part she hated. He’d grab at her, make her dance with him, and Cass hated that. She wanted to enjoy herself, feel the bass the thudded in her throat fully seep into her bones and twist them itself, let the lights push her eyes closed only thrust them back open again and tattoo themselves on her eyelids.

Marco didn’t touch her, though. She looked over occasionally, clumsily pushing her hair mostly out of her face just enough to see that he was still right next to her. He glanced at her too and sometimes their glances met and their grins matched. Energy and adrenaline zapped through her, increasing constantly, and she was glad no one pressed to her skin for too long because that surface area would immediately want to burst with the suddenly suppressed energy. The music pulsed through her, and if she had a heartbeat it would have been racing and thundering like the hundreds surrounding her.

That was it…that was what she wanted…The human adrenaline smelled delicious, mixed with salty sweat and the tang of blood. She shifted slightly, everyone packed so closely together that she was immediately pressed up against a hard body, hands wrapping around her much too tightly for her comfort but she didn’t care. Now, it would benefit her, and she felt her dark grin split her face. She let her fingers and nails graze lightly up the guy’s arms to the back of his neck, looking into his face only long enough for the human to be encouraged by what he perceived to be a seductive, eager smile. Cass felt a laugh bubble up in her chest and she felt slimy, wet lips clumsily on the side of neck, and she bit down hard. Hot, coppery blood spilled onto her lips and down her throat and Cass swallowed eagerly, enjoying the human’s attempt at a tighter grip on her hips.

She’d only taken a few gulps before cool hands on her shoulders pulled her back. She reared back, gasping slightly, regaining her balance and whirling on Marco in a second, eyes narrowed. She’d been enjoying that. Marco only raised his eyebrows, hands up by his shoulders in surrender. “Just make sure you don’t kill,” he shouted against her ear. “No one will notice bites, we’re all too drunk or on drugs, but they’ll notice death. Also, be careful of some people—shit that gets in your blood, like heroin, yeah, we don’t like that much,” he grinned lopsidedly, and Cass nodded in excitement.

She turned, seeing a girl standing almost still, alone and swaying lightly with her eyes closed and a binky in her mouth. The straps were decorated in neon beads, like the type kids made necklaces from, and Cass grinned as she recognized all the signs of a girl on ecstasy.

When she’d pulled away, she shoved the girl gently so that the human took a few more steps forward and into the crowd, away from Cass. A hand settled gently on her hip, just below where her shirt rode up, but it was cool against her skin so she didn’t flinch. Marco. She turned to him and felt the grin slide onto her face, and watched him smile and laugh at how she must have looked—glazed eyes, blank but permanent grin, swaying hips, tangled hair. Blood coating her lips and still wet on her chin and down her chest between her breasts.

Marco had a dark smudge on his lower lip too, and without thinking, Cass tilted forward and licked it off, sucking slightly to get it all. She felt his chest vibrate under one palm, and the fingers on her hip tightened as she was spinning suddenly. It stopped when her eyes faced the front, up to where the DJ stood over them all, commanding them all. His hands and fingers were spread over the buttons, and Cass thought he might’ve had strings on his fingers with how easily he moved every single body in that room. Her back was pressed against a hard figure, cool hands tight but not at all painful on her hips. Marco didn’t need to apply pressure, because Cass was already swaying, circling and moving her hips in time with the music, with the fresh blood that pulsed through her as if it were her own and controlled by her own heart.

Cass was blissfully, wonderfully, finally gone. And yet, she felt so human. This had been her favorite thing as a warm, breathing human. The high, the adrenaline and drugs that finally made her face ache from smiling, that removed the sad, pointless reality and inserted a reality that was equally pointless but a hell of a lot more ignorant and therefore bearable. She was numb, above everything. She knew Marco’s hands were moving up and down her sides, her entire backside against his front, but she didn’t really feel it and she didn’t care. She knew she was covered in blood, but it smelled good and it felt smooth against her skin, eerily accurate war paint. Cass loved it all.

Four humans and barely two hours later, Cass’ body felt warm and light and incredible. Every nerve was heightened, and every brush of other fabric and skin seemed to caress every part of her and heighten her senses further. Her vision was full of bright lights and vivid shapes, everything was too bright and too vivid, as if she were dreaming, but she loved it. She felt buzzed. More than buzzed—she was drunk, high, full, alive. There wasn’t a word for how good and energized she felt.

Too soon, fingers left her torso to wrap loosely around her elbow and Marco led her out of the crowd. He tilted his chin and she nodded, splitting from him and wandering toward the booths. The booths were separated from the dancefloor by a two-foot high, solid wooden wall, forcing her to go around to the bulky man dressed in all black. Security. Showing him her wristband, he nodded and stepped aside so she could step into the other side of the rail. She slid into the booth, surprised at how the backing was black leather and the bottom part was softer cloth. Zara stumbled in as soon as Cass had settled, her silky blonde curls thrown messily around her head to get them out of her face, pink gloss long gone and her lips a shade darker than her flushed cheeks. Her grin was a thousand watts, though, and Cass could practically see the adrenaline glowing on her skin.

“I always wonder why this side of Paris isn’t included in all the chick flicks,” Zara said breathily, and Cass smirked back, giggling. Zara’s eyes flitted over her face and the blonde smirked.

“Just make sure you don’t kill, but I’m sure my brother is watching you,” she said calmly, and Cass nodded again, feeling the new heat swirling in her body rise to her face. She looked again at Zara’s flushed cheeks.

The blonde’s smirked deepened, perfectly tidy, dark pink lips curving. “You’ll learn to be neater, but I know, it’s rather fun making a mess,” she winked, then handed Cass a white handkerchief.

A tray of six small glasses and clear liquid preceded Marco as he sat down, next to Cass but a good foot away. She was grateful. Her head was clearing slightly, and she wanted a moment to breathe. She had never understood where guys got it into their minds that because she’d been high and danced next to them, they could suddenly follow her around everywhere. Plus, in front of his sister. Come on.

“Ladies,” Marco proclaimed, holding up one of the shots. “Bottoms up,” he finished, visibly giving up on a long, eloquent, witty speech in favor of downing the alcohol. Cass let the burn go slowly down her throat, wishing she could stop swallowing and hold it there. It was nothing compared to the constant need—it was comforting, a burn she was familiar with and was always entirely worth its momentary shock.

“Come say that alcohol helps curb the hunger,” Zara smirked, noticing Cass’ sigh. “I agree—when you’re drunk, everything seems a whole lot better.” Truer words had never been spoken, and Cass said as much as she did her second shot. She bolted out of the booth as the liquid was still going down, eager to morph into the mass of hot bodies and overwhelming music again. She heard Marco’s faint chuckle as he sat for a moment longer with his sister. Whatever, she didn’t care who was anywhere, so long as she kept going.

“You probably shouldn’t let her get too far,” Zara said slowly from her thoughts, watching Cass’ dark hair swirl around her shoulders, hips swaying languidly as she slowly slipped into the crowd.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure she doesn’t drain anyone,” Marco chuckled. “But she seems to be doing fine.” His eyes were glued to the girl, and Zara resisted rolling her eyes.

“This was so typical of you, I just hope you don’t get too caught this time—it’s barely twenty-four hours for crying out loud,” Zara snickered, only half-joking, the other half actually looking for a reaction. He just looked at her, eyebrows raised in exasperation.

“I’m not talking about this with you, sis,” he smiled falsely. She rolled her eyes.

“Just looking out for you, don’t want to eat ice cream and watch girly movies when one of your hearts is broken again,” she mimicked his expression. Internally, she scolded herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about her brother—he was all she had, he was probably the only thing she did care about—it was just annoying how dumb he could be sometimes. How naïve. How open.

“Sis, I’m fine—she’s just fun, and here with just an older guy who I’m pretty sure is her uncle or something. Let’s just have a good time,” this time, his smile was kind, and genuine. And Zara wanted to slap it off his face. He reached across the table, gripping her hand briefly, before turning and leaving the booth. Zara watched him disappear into the crowd, hopefully in the same direction as Cass since the girl had disappeared from view.

Zara did actually like the new girl, she was interesting. Cass had a smart mouth and was witty, but it was her general attitude that caught Zara. Cass was cold, but not like Zara was. Cass was…Zara frowned at her inability to find the word, having prided herself often on being able to read people like books. There just was something unusual.

Zara shrugged and slipped out of the booth, eager to follow her sibling and the girl’s example and get lost in the throng of drugged, willing humans and deafening techno.

Another hour passed as the three—all at different areas of the large floor—danced, ground on whoever they could find and could stand, and fed. Oh, they fed. Zara pulled away from at least her tenth, really only taking a few sips of this one in favor of not overdoing it and puking like the silly human girls who were too young to be here and probably in the bathrooms with their heels off and too much makeup sliding around their faces. By now, though, she was getting a bit messy as she noted the warm liquid dripping from the corners of her mouth.

She smirked to herself, swaying her hips a bit deeper despite having no one on her, thinking of how she truly looked like a vampire right now. She’d taken out her contacts before going into the club, since it was dark and no one would care anyway, and now with blood dripping from the two corners. Yet, it was her general presence that made her appear supernatural—no one was closer than half an arm’s length from her. Zara knew this, and liked it, she liked that she could curl her lip at enough silly, groping humans and they’d just instinctually, animalistically know. Another thought followed that, but she ignored it.

So the sudden heavy weight of ice cold palms on the curves of her hips and curled fingers digging into her skin startled her. Her body was pulled to be flat against a tall, hard one, but before she could turn one hand left her hip and curled an iron grip into the hair at the back of her head, keeping her still unless she wanted her neck snapped. She grit her teeth, halting her movements and refusing to feel any softer than she just naturally was.

“You’re being rather unfair, don’t you think?” a low voice curled in her ear, and Zara stiffened. It wasn’t the stupid slur of a human not handling their cup, it was hard and smooth and a part of her wondered how she wasn’t literally bleeding from the edge in it. As he spoke, she felt his hips move slightly, almost as if unconscious, and her face relaxed into a smirk. She let her weight press onto him, still keeping herself tense, and began to slowly move her hips again, as if building to re-start a race with the music. Zara tilted her head to the side, actually going towards the fingers in her hair and baring her neck a bit. It was risky, but otherwise it wouldn’t have been fun, and Zara was still much too deep in her alcohol and blood haze to simply stop.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she murmured, voice low but knowing he could hear. The hips moved with hers, but while she could appreciate that it wasn’t clumsy or overly horny and desperate, she refused to show how much she actually did appreciate it. His movements were deliberate and controlled and slow—slower than hers—and perhaps it was his tight grip, but he held her from speeding up, and seemed to be bending and moving her as he wanted. Zara didn’t like that, and swallowed back a growl.

She felt more than heard his laugh. “Come on, just enjoy it. Doesn’t all that blood feel good flowing through you? Don’t we both love the smell of human adrenaline and the sounds of their frenzied hearts mixing with the music? Besides, I promise you, I’m worth your time.”

At that, she snapped out of his grip and whirled around, eyes narrowing further when she didn’t recognize him at all. He was about five inches taller than her—if she hadn’t been in three-inch heels, that is—and from what she could make out in the dim, flashing, colored lights was short curls, very full lips, and a lean frame. The last one, honestly, she felt more than saw. She let her eyes drift slowly from his legs, clad in tight black jeans, up his body and finally to his face. She was most impressed by his expression, an unsettling combination of blank and dangerous that made her just know not to screw with him. Yet, that was all she knew. He was unreadable, she couldn’t even see in the dim light if he was looking at her body, and his head wasn’t tilting to make anything more obvious. His hands were in his pockets now, shoulders looking loose enough, but a casual stance didn’t suit his demeanor. God dammit.

She bared her teeth, then turned her back and stepped in front of a few people, sashaying her hips. Immediately, she pressed herself flush against an energetic, giggling-way-too-loudly girl and swayed against her. The girl squealed, but no one cared, and Zara bit down, probably doing those nearest a favor by momentarily shutting her up. Her bite was hard, and she was clumsy as she let the blood drip a bit down her chin and smear across her lips. Zara was unnerved, and that was not a typical Zara thing to be. That, and she really wanted to just enjoy her time and that guy had been the walking definition of a buzz kill.

After a few minutes, she was a few more steps away and had shamelessly pressed herself against a human guy—who actually she might have considered attractive, had she cared—and he had wasted no time in sliding his arms around her waist. He was a bit on the overly muscular side though, which Zara found incredibly uncomfortable, but she didn’t care because she’d taken large gulps of the girl and this new human’s adrenaline was rolling off him in intoxicating waves. Vampires getting secondhand meant sipping on a heroin addict or something, but she wondered if there was a term for feeling giddy just by inhaling. She slid her body against his as she stretched onto her toes to reach his neck, enjoying in how the fabric of their shirts scratched lightly against her over-sensitized skin. Taking one last deep inhale, Zara bent her head back to deliver a hard, deep bite, when a blur in front of her eyes blocked the bouncing skin over his artery. Hissing—probably shrieking, but the club was too loud—Zara blinking and felt herself tense and ready to defend her prey.

But her anger died in her throat, dripping out as a sigh as her eyes became fixated on the view before her. The vampire from before had crept behind her human and his lean body was half curled around the bulging muscles, curly-haired head bent as he bit into the human’s neck. Zara inhaled, the open blood filling her senses and her fangs ached, the vision hazing red at the edges. Still, even in the bloodlust, her instincts knew better than to try to challenge the male vampire who was obviously stronger.

Fingers wove into her hair and she recognized his grip again, feeling her eyes widen in confusion as his head lifted slightly. It was hypnotic; she saw his eyes in the light for a split second—wide, bright blue corneas nearly drowned in black, vertical slits. Dark blood stained his already red lips, a bit dripping down the center of his chin. That was all she saw, because the next second her head was being pushed and the still flowing wound was pouring blood over her barely parted lips. She opened her mouth wider and took charge, ignoring the hand curled in her hair, sinking her teeth in to keep the cuts open and swallowing a groan as this seemed to taste a hundred times sweeter than any other before.

A low, smooth voice slid into her ear and encircled her mind, weaving in thin but strong tendrils through the haze. “You know your hair practically glows in this lighting…A rather deceptive halo, wouldn’t you say?” she choked slightly, trying to suddenly stop in confusion, but the grip in her hair tightened and kept her face against the wet skin.

A few pulls later and she had to throw her head back, gasping for air, feeling her lips splitting into a grin as her limbs glowed from the inside. The guy’s wound was still open, dripping against her neck, and she raised her tingling fingers to push his chest away when they collided with air.

The music crashed against her ears, as if held back by a cloth that finally tore, and Zara felt rather than told her body to resume moving with it. But she had so much energy, she couldn’t not move, and it felt good. Zara felt the hot, fresh source of life pulse through her, and the vampire had pressed his front to hers but his fingers trailing patternless designs on her hips were thin and strong, and they didn’t bother her. He moved with her, his icy breath relief against her scorched skin.

Zara had no collection of time, her consciousness just colorful, blinding lights and the tangy smell of adrenaline and the heady rush of energy tingeing the whole thing with a light red haze. She moved easily, fluidly, the blood spilled on her mouth and neck slowly drying against cold skin that felt like it burned underneath. And the solid, lean structure pressed at her front, matching her body so that every inch of him seemed to follow her. She didn’t mind it though. In her haze, she laughed humorlessly, she even liked it.

“Booths?” she murmured, bringing her stained mouth to brush against the skin of his collarbone, it being easiest to reach. His fingers tightened their grip, enough to bruise anyone who wasn’t her, to show he’d heard. So she didn’t question when only one wiry arm was around her waist and she was being half-led, half-pulled through the mass.

It did surprise her when they continued towards the back of the club, and not the sides where the booths were. Whatever, she grinned easily, as long as they didn’t leave this wonderful club, she didn’t particularly care. “Bathroom,” he called over his shoulder, tilting his head and she saw his lips curved into a smirk in the dimmer light.

Zara didn’t even feel bad for all the women who would inevitably be in a small crisis when she was pulled into the room and then slammed against the dark wood door. A tiny click registered from her left and then his body was against hers again, this time slightly curled and she tried to push herself off of the door and further into him with her forearms. Yet, even with their supernatural speed, she still didn’t have time to take a preparatory breath before full, soft lips were roughly demanding 120% from her. And damn her if she didn’t rise to a challenge.

Lips, tongues, and teeth clashed in a vicious battle for dominance, both sides savage and refusing to allow a clear winner. Even when his fingers slid down her sides and grabbed at her ass, she didn’t gasp and allow him anything. He finally ripped his mouth away, and the girl against him had barely opened her eyes before he yanked her thighs up to curl around his waist. When the wood disappeared from her back, she squeezed her legs tighter and wasted no time in grinding her hips into his as the room spun in her periphery. Everything spun, really, the only solid thing in either vampire’s hazy consciousness was the body against them.

The bruising grip left her legs as her ass rested on the counter, and Zara’s eyes flew fully open and she immediately registered everything, all in the split second it took for him to move his mouth to her neck. She was perched on the edge of the counter, between two sinks, the vampire between her legs and a wide, full-length mirror taking up the majority of the wall behind them. But it was the light that caught both their attention, and she wound her fingers in his curls and tugged so he would look at her for a moment.

She smirked in appreciation at his finally revealed face. Sharp cheekbones, light scruff that she’s already felt, lips even redder and fuller in the light and after encountering her. She smirked, “Thank the Gods you still look good in brighter lighting.”

The man’s lips twisted into a grin that put the devil to shame. “Back at you,” he muttered before his body was against hers again and she gasped as his hips ground roughly into hers, his stubble scraping the soft skin of her neck and sensitizing it. Her head tilted back, allowing him easier access, alternating between tiny gasps of pleasure as his tongue and lips caressed her skin and hisses as his teeth punished it again.

Swinging her legs back around his hips, her fingers darted to the hem of his shirt and cold air quickly slipped across her neck in the second he parted from her to let it off.

“Got a name, little one?” he breathed, already refocusing on her skin as soon as the words left his mouth. Zara thought about sneering at the pet name, but shrugged it all off.

“Does it matter?” she huffed. He chuckled, but that was the end of that.

Her own face split into a grin as devilish as his had been; she’d felt the muscle outside but the smooth planes of light skin looked even better bared. She’d barely had a chance to skim her fingers along his skin before his were curling under her leather top, shoving it up just under her bra and tugging at her tight leather pants. The material slid down her legs, her thong along with them, and she kicked the clothing off, moving to wrap herself back around him. Her nails scratched down his chest, enjoying the hiss he let out between his teeth, before her fingers deftly undid his belt.

***EXPLICIT CONTENT skip to next set of stars or read at your own risk (and consent that you are of age)***

Her fingers continued to the button on his jeans, but faltered as his thumb pressed on her clit. The moment two fingers pushed into her, Zara’s head slammed against the mirror behind her, the combination of pain and harsh, sudden pleasure making her moan and forget her goal in favor of gripping his hair. Her knees fell farther, her heels pressing him closer and her thighs spreading apart to give him better access. The vampire before her wasted no time, his fingers thrusting into her with a speed that dragged her almost chaotically to the edge.

Just as she began to tighten around his fingers, he stopped. Zara let out a moan, nearly a screech in frustration at the loss and his resulting chuckle. Opening her eyes just to narrow them at him, but the effect was spoiled when he sucked both fingers into his mouth. She felt her eyes widen and her walls clench around air, both vampires’ nostrils flaring at the heavy scent. Sparks shot down her spine at the sight of his eyes, black pupils overcoming their narrow shape and swallowing any blue irises, and her fingers returned to his jeans and smoothly slipped them open and down. The slim digits then wrapped around his hard length, stroking it, her movements for a moment deliberate and controlled. Zara was no saint, nothing was unfamiliar here, and yet the moment her fingers pulled a groan from him, her movements were clumsy and uncalculated.

Long fingers splayed across the outsides of her thighs and dug, the nails surely leaving marks but Zara just hissed and let him yank her to the edge of the counter. Wrapping her legs higher around his waist, they both groaned as her wet core brushed against his cock, and Zara jerked her hips in urgency for more. Neither were in the mood for teasing, and Zara hissed as blunt teeth scraped at her neck at the same moment the vampire’s cock thrust into her.

His mouth stayed at her throat, biting with blunt teeth and then soothing the searing skin with his velvety tongue. He dragged himself nearly completely out of her, and Zara bit down hard on his neck in challenge. A deep chuckle sounded in her ear, but it was lost among the groans as he slammed back into her and immediately started a fast, punishing rhythm that Zara met with her own hips.

She gripped the counter under her with one hand, the other scraping her nails along his shoulders as they moved, both to keep herself steady and to keep his body close, his light skin pressed against hers and humming with power. One of his hands was still bruising her hip, the other wrenching her hair, but she still fought his grip and kept mimicking his actions on her neck.

He angled his hips, at the same time squeezing her hip so that one of her legs hiked even higher around him, his body brushing her clit with each stroke, and Zara felt herself clench at the new angle. She grinned as she felt her climax so close, felt her lips moving slightly but couldn’t find the mind to care what they were saying, and raked her nails hard from his shoulders down his spine. She pulled her mouth from his neck, and through the haze of lust managed to notice the mirrors. She saw his back, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and her own eyes black. The room smelled of sex and cheap perfume and blood – leftover from earlier, now smeared along his neck and the top of his shoulder from her face. It looked good as hell.

It felt like mere seconds later that that Zara was clenching around his cock, tilting her head back moans slipped past her still grinning lips as waves of ecstasy rushed through her. All the blood she had fed on previously rushed through her, tickling and licking under her skin as the vampire ran his tongue down her throat to between her breasts. His deep groans vibrated against the flesh there as she felt his cock throb with his release against her. The bathroom’s dim lights brightened, the cool countertop soaking into her veins but the fire swallowed it whole anyway.

Zara leaned her head back against the mirror behind her, letting her shoulders press into the cool glass as she laughed internally. She was breathing heavily, her skin felt as though it burned, despite all of this being impossible. She reacted to sex, and other activities normally stimulating, but her sense of time stretched as she fought to remind herself that she had no pulse to calm, no breath to catch. Her cheeks were pinker, but only due to the fresh blood.

She leapt down from the counter, refusing to let her knees shake despite the slight imbalance, and fixed her clothing. Glancing in the mirror, Zara met the still-dark eyes of the vampire now standing behind her, grinning at her and bluntly running his eyes over her. Noting the matching blood smears on their necks, faces, and shoulders, Zara met his eyes again and smirked, before striding to the door without glancing back.

***End of explicit content***

Stepping out of the bathroom, she ignored the three girls sending her glares – for multiple reasons—and kept her steps and body even. She melted back into the crowd, noting that people seemed to part for her just a bit more than they had before, but otherwise time did not care about her.

She caught Marco’s eye, who raised his eyebrow in curiosity though his attention was clearly on Cass in his arms. Zara smirked in his direction, shrugging off his halfhearted questions.

As her hips easily fell back into sync with the music, she had only a few last fleeting thoughts of the vampire. He was good, and hot. If only more existed and were that easy, she thought in mock-sadness to herself.

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