INSTINCT (The Elite Book 1) Read online

  Chapter Eleven

  Everette

  With just the tips of my fingers, I lift her chin so that I can kiss her again. This kiss is softer than the last as I pull her body closer, leaning back in my chair, as I try to force myself to take it slow.

  My hand brushes along the smooth length of her thigh, smirking at the way my touch brings goose bumps to the exposed flesh.

  Always eager, Farah’s tongue meets mine as her warm lips move with my cooler ones. Her fingers inch towards the hem of my shirt, untucking it from my trousers and then her hands are on my skin, touching my stomach.

  Her touch causes my fangs to lengthen, pushing out further from their gums. It’s not only my fangs that react though. My dick is throbbing, demanding to be released from its restraints.

  It doesn’t help that Farah is rubbing her pretty little arse back and forth on my lap, right above it. It’s pure torture.

  She pulls away from the kiss, breathing heavily, resting her head on my shoulder. Her neck is right there and I’ve never wanted to bite her more than I do now.

  I brush her hair back from her shoulder as she moves closer still, pressing her chest against my own. I feel the warmth pouring off her skin and I practically taste the pheromones she’s letting off in the air around us.

  My finger moves to her collar, tracing her vein through the fragile layer of skin. My breathing is harsher than it should be. It’s not like I’m struggling for breath. I lower my mouth to that vein, dropping several small kisses to the spot before allowing my teeth to sink into her flesh.

  I feel her body tense, her fingers wrapping around my arms, nails digging into my shirt. But almost as quickly, I feel her body loosen up once more.

  It’s hard to focus on her, when I can taste her blood. It’s indescribably sweet, an almost heavenly nectar. I feel a new found power surging through my body as I literally ingest her essence. The taste is addictive, far sweeter than I’ve had in years.

  I fight the temptation to give in and take her life. I feel the change in her body before she does, stopping just before she has the chance to begin fighting me. I don’t want to scare her.

  I want to bite her again and again, taking her to the edge of death over and over before finally taking her life

  Lapping at the wounds my fangs have given her, I use my venom to close them. Then I kiss my way up her neck and back to her mouth.

  She’s sluggish as she tries to respond to my kiss. I caress her neck soothingly with slow and gentle circles, trying to ease any leftover pain.

  Gradually she seems to return to her senses as I cup her face in my hands. Her eyes are hooded, sleepy but beneath that I can see that she’s afraid. She doesn’t understand what has just happened, but she knows that she’s in danger.

  Ironically, I’m probably less dangerous to her now than I was a few moments ago. I lick my lips, enjoying the taste of her blood that stains them. She sits astride my lap, completely petrified, simply incapable of obeying her instinct to run.

  Her lips are quivering and she’s clearly close to tears. Her breathing comes sharply and I can hear her heartbeat’s faltering rhythm.

  I should pull back, give her time to adjust, time to accept that what I am.

  But I can’t. My bloodlust might have been quenched for now, but there are other desires that have still gone unmet.

  Farah

  I’m struggling to think straight, trying to rationalise exactly what has just happened. I can hardly believe it. I should be pushing him away, running for the door.

  I knew he was dangerous. I knew it the very first time I met him and yet I’d stupidly ignored it.

  Now though, climbing down from his lap, I stagger back. I know I should run, but my feet refuse to obey me. They’re glued to the ground and I am seemingly incapable of moving as I stare down at him.

  He hasn’t moved. He’s just sitting there, gazing up at me, his stare deadly. It tells me that as much as my instinct is to run, his is something altogether more sinister.

  He could kill me. He probably will.

  I should run. I should fight. I should tell him that I want to live. Or perhaps I should scream, hoping that someone will rescue me.

  But logically, I know I’ll never win.

  “Farah, calm down,” he tells me, reaching out to me. Giving off an aura of perfect tranquillity, he pulls me back down into his lap and my body obeys him.

  I don’t speak, sitting there in his lap, still on edge, almost waiting for death to come for me.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says and I almost laugh aloud at the idea of him saying that he won’t hurt me.

  He forces me to meet his eye, lifting my chin softly. His gaze is softer than I expect, almost longing. He doesn’t speak again for the longest time as I just stare at him, losing myself in his iridescent eyes.

  It’s almost laughable that I’ve been so completely unaware of what he is. Looking into those supernatural eyes, eyes that swirl a mixture of cobalt and violet. It’s only now that I see him for what he truly is; a Vampire.

  Chapter Twelve

  Everette

  I’m not sure why I’m putting in so much effort to placate her fears. Especially when her fear tastes so good. I rub soothing circles on her back with one hand while the other keeps her face in place, so that she won’t look away.

  When she seems more settled once more, I clutch onto her hips, pulling her closer again so that she’s once more resting against my body. I delight in the warmth of her body against mine.

  Something passes between our gazes, something unspoken before I slowly pull her face towards mine so that I can kiss her again. I move far slower than I want to, nervous that I might scare her again. But as slowly as I try to go, the kiss is quickly deepened as it re-ignites the passion within her.

  When her hands begin to wander once again, I take it as my cue to move forward. I pull her shirt over her head so that she’s now sat on my lap in her skirt and bra.

  She looks needy and decadent and I’m overtaken by a primal desire to not only claim her as my prey with a bite but to claim her in countless other ways too.

  As my fingers reach for the clasp on her back, my mouth moves down her neck, along her collarbone peppering her skin with a trail of kisses until I reach her cleavage.

  I’d laughed at the human men in the café for having ogled at her breasts, and yet here and now with them on display before me, I find myself sympathetic with them.

  Tracing the line of her silk bra with my nose, I breathe in her scent, forcing myself not to rush. When the bra falls away, I’m left in awe of the sight that’s before me.

  Naturally, I want to bite her again. I want to dig my fangs into her nipple and make her scream. But I won’t. Not yet.

  Instead, I use the tip of my tongue to run a path around her left breast, spiralling in towards her nipple before sucking forcefully on it. The temptation to bite down is almost excruciating, especially when she lets out a loud, agonising moan.

  My voice is hoarse when I tell her to stand up. She obeys immediately without hesitation and I get to my feet as well. She seems to know what I want as her hands go straight to my belt, beginning to unbuckle it.

  I remove my shirt and then my trousers and boxers so that I’m stood naked before her.

  She’s quiet, not saying anything as she takes in the sight of my weeping cock. I’m not small. I don’t think there’s a Vampire alive who is. Not that we make a habit of comparing measurements.

  Lowering to my knees, I reach beneath her skirt to remove her knickers and then I’m pulling her back down onto my lap, her skirt still on.

  If I was human or a better man instead of the monster that I am, I’d ask her if this is what she wants. I’d give her a way out. I’d let her leave.

  But I’m not and I have no intention of stopping even if she begs. I feel like I should warn her that yes, I am a Vampire but unlike the Vampires in her storybooks I’m not agonising over my own soul or the ethics of drink
ing her blood. I’m not looking for her to love me or hoping that she will somehow save me. I’m perfectly happy being the monster that I am.

  What’s worse, is I am perfectly content with being her destruction, her undoing.

  Her core is wet as my dick slides against it, impatient to be inside her. Using my hands on her hips, I encourage her to move, enjoying the friction and the electricity that runs through every single one of my nerves at her touch.

  Then I lift her gently so that she’s hovering over me before slowly bringing her back down so that my cock slowly stretches her. I hear the hiss of pain that escapes her lips and in an attempt to distract her, I bite down on her lower lip, releasing a wave of endorphins into her system. Immediately, her body relaxes and the hiss of pain becomes more of a needy whimper.

  This was never a part of my plan. I’d never intended to fuck her. My goal had always been her blood and yet now that I’ve drank from her veins I know I’ll never be able to quench my thirst for her, I’ll never have enough.

  I guide her movements using my hands on her thighs, all the while thrusting into her quicker than a human ever could.

  Her body is like a drug, much like her blood. One touch will never be enough. Clinging to her, I turn so that I now have her pinned beneath me on the couch, her thighs wide open for me.

  Her fingernails dig into my skin as she claws at my back. I’m in a heady trance as I pound into her over and over again. She’s lucky I don’t bite her right now, because if there’s no way I’d be able to control myself. I’d kill her for sure.

  I’m so lost to the feelings and pleasures that her body inspires. She’s driving me crazy, wrapping me up in a soft cocoon of pheromones and sensations.

  Farah’s back arches and I feel her tight walls begin to pulse, sucking me in deeper, almost claiming me the way I want to claim her. She lets out another of those soft, little whimpers before I feel her body give way to an orgasm.

  Her eyes meet mine, seeing more of me than I think I want as my defences are lowered by the intoxication of impending climax.

  I blink twice before saying, “I’m going to bite you.”

  I don’t wait for her to consent. I don’t care to hear her try to refuse. I know I’m a monster but I couldn’t give a flying fuck.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Farah

  I don’t have time to try and pull away before his fangs break through the thin membrane of skin on my neck. My head is fuzzy and I begin to feel dizzy. The bite doesn’t last as long as the last one and before I know it, it’s over.

  I feel surprisingly safe as Everette flips us around so that I’m now lying on his side with my head resting on his chest. Inhaling the musky scent of sex and sweat, I try to catch my breath.

  I don’t know what to make of everything that has just happened. I don’t know if I should be angry, terrified or what.

  “Sleep Farah.”

  The words are a demand, not a request and I feel my eyelids obeying him long before my mind is willing. With a thousand questions in my mind, I fall into a restless slumber.

  Everette

  Watching her sleep, I consider my options. If my intention was to keep her alive, then bringing her here was probably unwise.

  Now that I’d had a taste of her blood, I’d crave more and more, my thirst never fully sated until I kill her. That’s the destiny before us and yet surprisingly, that isn’t enough.

  With a grimace, I extract myself from her embrace and leave the room and the sleeping girl behind. Making my way down the hall, still naked, I enter my bedchamber.

  I slip on some clothes before perching down on the side of the large fourposter bed that dominates the room. My mind wanders to Farah and I picture her tied to one of those posts.

  Sighing, I lie back and close my eyes.

  ***

  Much later, I hear a knock at the door. I don’t bother to answer, knowing that no one in my house would dare bother me without a response.

  Except I hadn’t been counting on Farah.

  The door opens giving way to a sudden burst of sunlight. For a Vampire that doesn’t need to sleep, I sure seem to do a lot of the stuff.

  I try to ignore the returning darkness when she closes the door behind her and the pitter of her feet on the hardwood floors. It’s only when I feel the mattress give way to her weight that my eyes dart open.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, remarkably calmly.

  “For what?” I ask, not knowing to what she is referring.

  “Disturbing you.”

  I bark out a quick guff of laughter before allowing myself to lower my head once more to where it had been resting on the bed. I’m surprised by how utterly undisturbed I feel by her presence here in my room.

  Reaching for her, I notice that her skin is cold. She shivers against my touch. Exasperated, I reach for the edge of the duvet, pulling it away from where it is tucked beneath the pillows.

  “Get in,” I tell her.

  She does as she’s told but then quickly tells me that she probably shouldn’t be going to bed at nine in the morning. Her tone is almost sarcastic and it’s reminiscent of the angry girl I first met outside the café, after stealing her book.

  I pull her back into my arms, now under the covers, and ask her if there’s something she’d rather be doing, a smirk on my lips.

  We lounge about for the next hour or so before her stomach rumbles and I’m reminded that there are human needs that need to be met. It’s been a long time since I last considered the needs or even wants of a human.

  “Hungry?” I ask her.

  I might be dressed but she’s still naked and so I go to my wardrobe and find her something to wear. I hand her one of my t-shirts and a pair of shorts that will undoubtably be too big for her.

  She dresses quickly, pulling on the drawstring of the shorts to keep them on her hips. She looks like a little kid in my overlarge clothes, especially with the nervous expression on her face.

  Taking her hand, I lead her towards the door.

  “Where are we going?” she asks, holding back, her feet firm on the ground.

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I…” Her eyes dart between me and the door. “Do you even have food here?”

  Chuckling, I nod my head. “I have human servants.”

  It’s clear from her expression that she’s surprised, but she accepts my words none the less and follows me out of the room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Farah

  I follow after him throughout the house, taking in all the details that I can. It’s a large house, so large in fact, that I’m not sure I’d actually call it a house so much as a manor or palace.

  We’re quiet. He doesn’t speak and I make no attempt to force a conversation. It’s only when we suddenly enter the kitchen that he finally speaks, but it’s not to me but rather a middle-aged woman who is working diligently at the stove.

  “Sybil, what are you cooking?” he asks as he guides me towards a stool at the breakfast bar.

  “Will you actually eat it, Sir?” she returns his question with one of her own.

  “Not likely,” Everette replies as he sits on the stool next to my own, “but Farah will.”

  Sybil turns her head towards us, smiling at me sweetly. “Is there anything you dislike, dear?” she asks.

  Shaking my head, I struggle to answer her. I’m gobsmacked. I just can’t believe how comfortable she is with Everette. She obviously knows what he is and yet she doesn’t seem even the smallest bit scared.

  “I can eat anything,” I answer her eventually.

  “That’s good,” she says, offering me a wide, friendly smile. “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

  She doesn’t seem surprised by my sudden appearance or by my humanity and I find myself wondering if Everette regularly brings girls back to his house. I almost giggle aloud as I realise that I’m jealous. I should be worrying that Everette is planning to kill me but no, I’m jealous that I’m not t
he first girl he’s killed.

  Fuck’s sake! I’m clearly off my bloody rocker!

  My eyes wander around the room as I try to fight the urge to look at Everette. I have a lot of questions for him, but I can’t possibly ask them in front of… Sybil.

  I almost jump out of my skin when I feel his hand on my thigh. My eyes meet his abruptly as he squeezes my thigh almost encouragingly.

  Everette

  She’s overwhelmed. That much is obvious.

  What isn’t so obvious is why I care. It shouldn’t matter. I’ve practically kidnapped her after all.

  “Why did you bring me here?” she suddenly asks, nervously glancing towards Sybil.

  I don’t really know what to tell her. I can hardly tell her the truth, that even I don’t know what I’m doing.

  “You weren’t safe,” I tell her, my honesty surprising me.

  “Am I safe now?”

  “No.”

  She doesn’t bristle or try to get away from me, instead she just sits there, accepting my answer.

  Her voice is a whisper, strangely at contrast with Sybil’s clattering of dishes, when she asks, “will you hurt me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you want to?”

  I don’t answer her immediately. I don’t want to disappoint her. Which is completely ridiculous. Why the hell would I care about the feelings of an insignificant human?

  Except I don’t think for one second that she’s insignificant.

  At least not to me.

  “Yes, I do,” I tell her sincerely.

  Again, she doesn’t bulk even though she should. She should be running for her life, trying to escape the ultimate predator, instead of preparing to eat dinner with him.

  “Farah,” I begin. I don’t know exactly what I want to tell her. Sighing, I stop myself. There’s no point telling her that as much as I want to hurt her, I won’t. It would be a lie.

  I want to tell her to leave, while forcing her to stay. I want to bleed her dry but I want her to live. My thoughts are a contradictory mess and so I choose to stay quiet, ignoring the building tension between us.