Vicious In Love by D.D. Dass (ebook reader with highlight function TXT) 📕

Beth hadn’t noticed she was fidgeting until her brother grabbed her hands, pulling her from her thoughts. The first thing she noticed were his narrow, almost glowing eyes, easily distinguished as the eyes of a Vamp. When the hell was her transition going the hit? She wondered at the sight. She was already nineteen and her mother had gone through hers around this time…Maybe she could be the freak that was later than all the others. It would be her.

“Elizabeth, seriously, why haven’t you been going to training?” She sighed heavily, knowing “serious” Tallis was back.

Oh, joy.

“I uh, feel it…?” she admitted sheepishly, partly the truth. Heat rose to her face, because it was not the type of thing she wanted to talk to her brother about. Her brother, who was immature as they came.

And yup, he looked at her as if she’d grown a second head, and it took a lot for her to resist the urge to make sure she hadn’t. “Uh...feel what exactly?”

She let out an uneasy laugh, running her hand through her hair. And here comes the awkward. “My transition.” She watched, letting him absorb that as his mouth dropped open, then closed, then dropped again. Before she could even blink, he was off the floor and slowly backing away with his hands raised in caution.

Damned Vamp speed, it was no fair.

“What?” she demanded in exasperation. “It’s not like it’s contagious! Need I remind you that you went through it too?!” It didn’t stop him from turning on his heels and running, his mocking laughter echoing through the hallways.

Jerk.

“Come and get me sis!” At the challenge, she grinned wickedly. The manor was beyond huge, with at least three hundred unnecessary halls and even more rooms. It would take a long time to find her brother, even living here all her life, she didn’t know every single room, in fact she tended to stick to her floor. Not to mention her brother was made of speed and energy. Again, damned Vampire.

Her body was sore still; partially form her imminent transition, the other from her time with the hunters. They’d gone easy on her, but the damned Super-Human’s were stronger than anyone gave them credit for. Damned hunters.

Everyone was so much more enhanced than her, she thought as her muscles screamed in protest to her rising from the floor. Damn them all. She sniffed defiantly, ignoring the pain. At least she was considered, as the human’s put it, “normal”. Only for a little while longer, she hoped.

Shaking the thoughts, she pulled her jet-black hair into a messy bun and zoomed from the hall, following in the direction Tallis had gone.

How I live for a challenge.

∞∞∞

Ian shot his hands out in frustration, pounding at the punching bag as his speed accelerated. Two more hits, he estimated, before it broke from the iron hooks it was attached too.

“Ian!” Nick’s shout was far off, and Ian ignored him, changing positions around the bag, forcefully keeping his extended fangs unclenching.

He would not let his father down this time…Never, he thought, rage boiling in his blood.

Breathing harsh, he flexed his bleeding knuckles, closing his eyes at the intense feel just as heavy footsteps advanced from behind him. 

Anger no longer controlled his performance. He was so close now…He grinned hollowly at the relieved notion.

He felt, rather than saw, Nick’s upcoming attack. Spinning on his heels, he dodged a punch, wrapping his hand around the large fist, and holding it back. Nick’s glowing blue eyes flamed, his fangs were bare, and his body stiff as metal. Ian was only slightly built, not nearly as muscular as the older male, so when Nick pushed forward, Ian pushed back with his body, releasing the fist to kick him in the ribs. He was careful to back away before that kick could be returned. After all, he liked to give the pain, not receive it.

“The hell’d you think you were doing?” Nick growled, catching him off guard enough that he allowed his opponent to pin him to the ground beneath his heavy muscled weight.

Not acceptable, Derik.

Lifting his fist, he punched Nick in the face, but to no satisfaction, even when his head snapped backwards, the leader was still over him. He glared with irritation, struggling. It was a useless cause to fight the one that taught him everything, an expert compared to Ian’s fifty-five young years.

“What,” Nick shouted, slamming his fist into Ian’s face so hard, blood exploded in his mouth. “Were,” he threw another punch. “You,” another, “Thinking!” the last one made his vision flash white as his nose cracked.

Fuck it.

Ian hissed, bloodlust fogging his vision and before he understood what he’d done, Nick was beneath him, and his fists were connecting to his mentor’s shocked face. Over and over, he slammed down; until reality caught up to him…When Nick’s face was bloodied and scrunched in pain.

Fuckin’ hell, he’d lost control. Ian Derik never lost control like that. Only Nick could cause it. Only this asshole, he thought petulantly.

You don’t care; he reminded himself, making sure his face was in its statically bored expression.

“You pleased with yourself now Lord Payne?” Inwardly Ian flinched at his father’s surname, though on the outside, he shrugged, hefting himself up and wiping the bloody remains of his nose bleed, and split lip, onto his leathers. The pain was easily accustomed to. His childhood consisted of it.

“Well after what you just did to my face, I fucking hope so, you prick,” Nick continued. Ian’s lips twitched, because again, only Nick could make the situation almost amusing. “You gonna throw in another, for fun?” Nick narrowed his eyes with distrust, but held up his hands in a surrendering pose. After a moment of reassurance, Nick leaned forward, but Ian just stared, a bit dumbfounded. Did he actually need a hand?

“Goddess, you’re not as smart as you are strong. Help me up.” Ian mentally slapped himself again for losing his composure, his guard.

Striding over to the male, he clasped his forearm, and pulled him up. He came up gracefully, while Ian probably would have tripped over his feet. It’d been too many years to counts since his twenty third birthday, but he still couldn’t walk with the same grace as most males, so instead he held his head high, and inwardly counted the steps until he could sit again.

Fighting was another story entirely, but walking….

Some male, his Vampire sneered, but he shut it away, pushing the brown hair from his sweaty or bloody—he couldn’t tell—forehead. Nick looked worse than him at least, his whole face was swollen, blue eyes squinted as he leaned against the door, crossing his arms.

Ian already knew it was another attempt to make him feel himself, and he appreciated the gesture, but he could never be himself again. In fact, he’d left that Ian behind, thirty six long, cold years ago.

“Ian, you’re not your fath –,” They were so not going there; his control was already shaky as hell. He needed to run it off, but first he needed to take a damned shower and get rid of all the blood. Yeah, shower, then running…then killing. Perfect.

“I’m leaving,” he interrupted, exiting the security door before Nick could try and stop him. Ian didn’t need his smart-ass remarks any more than Nick needed to know how fucked up he was. Still trying to please a dead man, who had wanted nothing to do with him in the first place? Damn pathetic. But so close. The idea, once again, had him smiling discreetly; nothing could get in the way of his success.

He could have traced, but he needed his mind cleared in order to prepare for the shower. It wasn’t the same as being in a pool or a tub, submerged in water, suffocating in your skin, lost in your thoughts…but he still had to force himself a little, turning the corner and listening to the loud female’s voice.

“Tallis! I know you’re around here somewhere, you big jerk!” His eyebrows furrowed. Tallis? Tallis…Tallis…He knew that name…Nick’s Tallis?

The girl continued, “Come on! I’m Untransitioned, I can’t track your scent! Hints! I need some freakin’ hints!”

His steps slowed, and he cocked his head to the side. An Untransitioned? One of his?

“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered lowly, continuing down the hall until finally his door, the last in the hall, was in plain sight. Just a few more large steps and he would be free of conversation…

Thank Goddess. Five steps, four, three—

Right then, a female rounded the corner, moving so fast that she almost rammed into him. Would have, were it not for his reflex to stop the contact. Gripping her upper arms, he threw her tactlessly away from him, glaring at the dazed female who went tumbling to the floor.

He almost felt bad when she struggled to stand again, trying to be quick. Actually, he genuinely felt bad, so when his own hand reached out to steady her, he wasn’t shocked by the action. Maybe it was pity for the weak? He didn’t know why, but like the klutz she seemed to be, she stumbled forward, into him this time, just as he inhaled a deep breath.

Big mistake.

The sweet, citrus scent went through Ian like wild fire, his stomach tightened to the point of pain, hunger sharpening his fangs, urging him to bite the soft skin of her throat. Mouth suddenly very dry, his throat constricted and he struggled to breathe. It took all the self-control he possessed to stop breathing in that scent, to the avoid temptation though she was already branded into his brain.

Silently, he cursed her as his fangs pricked his bottom lip, blood flooding his mouth before the wound healed. He didn’t want his blood though, he wanted hers.

Why did she smell so very…lovely? He’d fed off more female Vampires than he could count, none ever smelled so…luscious. Mouthwatering. Was she was pretty as she smelled? Did he care?

He peered down at the female, slightly disappointed. It was only slightly though, her beauty called to him through her blood. Still, she wasn’t what he’d expected. Then again, he’d expected a blonde; in his experience their blood was richest. But her scent…attracted, Goddess her scent sang for him, but her face was nothing…beautiful. In fact, he wasn’t sure she was even pretty.

Inky hair set off the creamy color of her face, which was an appealing pink, defining a pointed chin. Her dark eyebrows were too far apart, high arched above piercing, pale blue irises, familiar blue eyes. Her nose was straight, long, running down to slightly parted lips, both plumper in the middle, giving them a strange, bow-tie effect.

As he stared, those blue eyes fell to the floor and an alien knot formed in his chest. Pity again? He didn’t think so. This was something more. Unable to put a word for it, he shallowly inclined his head.

Then…hatred, a different kind of hatred. It had to be. This girl, this obnoxious little girl could be his down-fall. He felt she would be and he stiffened with a hiss. Nobody would get in the way of his success.

Soon, his conscious whispered, making sure he knew it was far more imperative than a scent.

“I should’ve been paying more attention to where I was going, I give you my most sincere apologies,” he said tightly. In actuality, she’d come out of nowhere, but he wouldn’t embarrass her out loud.

Degrading females or anyone in particular was not his forte. No matter how much hatred he felt.

She opened her mouth to speak when a male came rushing into the hall, arms pulling her smaller body into him, and a growl—almost playful—escaping him.

“Gotcha!” Her cheeks positively flamed now, the heat carrying, but he did his best to ignore that, raising an eyebrow as the male looked up with a very familiar face. What was Nick’s son doing with an untransitioned female? Tallis