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

Obviously enough.

Releasing the girl, he inclined his head shortly, and Ian noted the female inched closer behind Tallis. Good, let her be afraid.

“What are you doing running around in the halls Son of Aeluis?” His voice was rough as his fists clenched. He was fuckin’ bothered. Tallis glanced down briefly to the girl, who was almost fully hidden behind his body now.

Coward.

“My lord, I was retrieving my sister.” Of course. The female was Nick’s youngest daughter. A daughter that in no way resembled any of her kin besides the icy blue of her eyes.

Now he really was screwed. He couldn’t hate her.  He gritted his teeth. “Youngest daughter of Nicholas, second leader, allow me to introduce myself, I am –.” She stepped forward a bit, raising her chin.

Perhaps she wasn’t a coward after all.

He wasn’t sure if he liked her bravery. There were no consequences to laying hands on a female in the Axvem Scrolls; most males fought hands on with their females. He couldn’t understand how. A Vampire’s irryn was supposed to be worshipped by her tyren, not…mishandled. It was simple. He would never treat a female the way his mother had been treated.

Yet always being a dominating male, he wanted this particular female to obey and keep her mouth shut even so. She isn’t yours, Ian reminded his inner-Vampire.  “I already know you, Lord Ic – um Derik…I-I’m one of your trainees,” she mumbled, her eyes on his boots. Lord Ice.  He rolled his eyes at that.

She didn’t look up again, and that same feeling returned with a vengeance. Her not being able to meet his gaze…irked him. Though he didn’t know why, not many Vampires did.

But she was his…? His trainee. It wasn’t hard to miss someone so silent and cautious, but she smelled so damned lovely…A light scent, he’d have to be exceedingly close to catch it with all the heavily transitioned scents. He nodded solemnly for what he prayed was the last time, ignoring the instinct to tug at his hair.

“Yeah, I recall having seen you before,” he lied smoothly. That caused her head to snap up, the look on her face told him she knew he was lying just as much as he did. A dark brow hitched provokingly and she opened her mouth to retort. Ian anticipated her reply. Her brother spoke first.

He’d always liked the male, but in that moment, he kinda wanted to hurt him.

“I believe mother’s expecting you, sister-mine,” he interceded, placing her hand on his arm so Ian noticed the cuts littered along her knuckles. Surely that hadn’t happed at training? He rarely allowed the females to use their hands without gloves…Interest mixed with shock made his reply later than appropriate.

“Goodbye.”  He hadn’t realized he’d spoke the Old Axvem Idiom until they remained mute.

Not bothering to explain, he brushed passed them, unlocking his door and entering the darkness’ chill. Inside, he mused over the girl, grasping belatedly that he hadn’t even gotten her name. He could always ask Nick, but that would be an unwise idea, the male was already overly protective of his irryn, and Ian could only imagine how much more of the girl. Besides, why should he care to know? He had no business with the young untransitioned.

Except that scent…

Forcefully removing her from his thoughts, he went numb as he showered, trying to quickly scrub the soap over his scared and salt-inked tattooed body. The most important one was his swear to the council, along his collar it read: “Protection of the race depends on myself, so therefore, I give all thyself to three, I supply my mind, body, heart, and soul to the lives of the vampire species.”

It was what he believed with all of himself, a promise he abided by. No matter what, he gave himself over to protecting his species. Every Vampire had a choice but the leaders. They possessed the excess abilities, whereas leaders carried the stronger genes of the founding Goddess of Blood Bonds. The leaders were forced to use her given name, Aetheria, whenever they were in the Fourth realm. Alocer and Xaphan the two last leaders, remained on that side to keep order in line, and that was all Ian cared to know.  

Shutting his eyes, he cut off the leeway to his thoughts, leaving him to his surroundings. His given gift was the control of morphing, and although he bore others such as being an illusionist, his given gift was what he’d been able to do since birth, something that would always be there to continue to excel without further practice. When his skin was crawling, he exited the shower and dressed. Drying his messy hair roughly, he grabbed on leathers, placing his holster over his chest and shirt before loading it with daggers, each engraved symbolically with his name in the Axvem Idiom.

Going into the long closet, he grabbed the duffle bag stuffed with loaded rifles, silver, and other steels. Nick preferred using metal baseball bats for a reason unimaginable to Ian, while Lucius was fond of dagger, quick and quiet. Ian had to agree with Lucius. Enjoying a kill was one thing, but Nick lived off it. Nobody could blame the male though; they’d murdered his eldest daughter. Revenge was expected, deserved.

His door was pounded on and he knew who it was before Nick opened it. He looked better already, the bruises disappearing as he smiled, amusement deep in his blue eyes.

 If only he knew how much you wanna sink your teeth into his daughter’s neck, his conscious hissed in disgust.

“You should wait for me to answer next time,” Ian muttered, keeping away from those thoughts. Nick’s eyes reminded him of the chit again. Damn him. 

“I thought you’d gotten all that anger out when you pounded my face in. Verona is furious by the way.” Nick eyed him suspiciously, and Ian rolled his eyes.

“Obviously not, your face is still too pretty,” he mumbled dryly. “By any miracle is Lucius ready?” Nick plopped on a loveseat, getting much too comfortable. The door behind Ian slammed shut and he knew Nick used his given gift, telekinesis. Still, he warily eyed the door from the corner of his eye, expecting an attack.  “Keep wishing. Aye, where are my bats?” Ian pointed to the closet, and Nick grinned, looking like a young boy rather than his two-hundred years, before disappearing in the closet.

A bit annoyed, he called, “Is Lucius aware that sunrise is only hours away?” Then he lifted a dagger, and tossed it from one hand to the other subconsciously.

“Yeah, but he’s…preoccupied with a female at the present,” he shouted from the closer. As if Ian couldn’t hear him if he whispered it.

“Sex or blood?” he yelled back anyway. Nick chuckled lowly.

“Both.”

“Shall we leave him the keys to the Range Rover?” Nick exited the closet, pounding the metal bat into his hand ponderingly.

“Cool, let’s take the Escalade then?” Ian stifled a smirk, feeling like Nick had entering that closet. He loved that car, though he never had an excuse to really drive it. Not ‘till now. And he was going to take full advantage of it.

“I’m driving,” he declared, hefting the duffle bag over his shoulder and tracing to the garage. This was his only outlet. He needed to brush off all these emotions before he lost it.

Tonight, he decided as he picked out to whipping chains, he was killing dirty.

Beth slammed awake, the pain in her body shoving her into consciousness. With a groan, she pushed the heavy covers from her sensitive skin, wishing she could just skip the post-transitional pains. Everything hurt. Her body ached, as if her skin was stretched to fit her, going as far as to ache down…below, and to make it worse, she was starving. But it was a miracle if she could force down two meals a day, the idea of food made her stomach turn.

Frustrated tears threatened to spill from her stinging eyes as her body calmed enough for her mind to recharge from the attack. Goddess, she thought, what hurt more, the physical or emotional pain? Her mind immediately casted emotional pain, but her body wouldn’t give so easily.

After a shower, she decided to work it off, to feel the light, but tantalizing ache in her muscles. As she tiptoed through her room, she pulled out typical workout clothes; dressing into the sports-bra, tights and old, white All-Stars before hastily pulling her hair back and walking from the room with Tallis’ security care, and her iPhone, in hand.

It was prohibited for females to be in the training center without their trainer, but Beth had never been one to follow the rules of the ramai. As she strode the familiar halls, she dwelled on her encounter with Derik. It wasn’t hard to notice how badly she’d humiliated herself, unable to even meet the male’s eyes.

He probably thought she was some sort of Neanderthal. Though, in her defense, it was his fault. Nobody should be allowed to be that handsome. Six foot six, he wasn’t bulkier than most Vamps, but the slightness of him did nothing to mispronounce his muscles. His brown hair was on the shorter side, but long enough that she could run her fingers through it still. Not that she imagined the textures at all, definitely not. And while his eyebrows were straighter than most, they set off the icy green of his eyes, lighter despite his age. For all the leaders, their eyes would eventually loss its original color and become crimson, a sign of power. His straight, aristocratic nose gave way to the sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, lips above full and forever in a tight line.

Did he get his looks from his father? She tried to remember Lord Payne, but she hadn’t been alive when he’d reined leader, and admittedly, she hadn’t paid much attention to the stories. She thought she’d heard the others say something about…drowning, but couldn’t be sure. It was pointless to try; she obviously wouldn’t be getting anywhere.

Instead, she tried to picture the leader with a smile, fangs sharp and white. She shivered. He was so completely male that it stung to realize he wouldn’t notice her again, she was just another girl.

And how could she expect him to even glance her way when he had every single female, even their freakin’ Goddess, throwing themselves at him. There were so many beauties and she was certainly no beauty. Her eyebrows were set too far apart, her cheeks to puffy, breasts to small; the list could go on forever.

“Oh, get over it,” she admonished to herself as she reached the metal entryway to the training center. Swiping the car, she grinned when the green light flashed, indicating her access. She wasted no time pushing the heavy door, wincing a bit when it closed too quickly, hurling her forward.  Ouch.

Whatever.

With the lights turned low, she plugged her headphones into her phone, blasting ‘The Script’. She’d always liked their music. And music was her outlet, very dreary music ever since Vince. Even now, after a month, betrayal had her heart constricting in her chest.

Shutting her eyes, she pulled on a pair of leather gloves, and sinking in memories of the hunter,