Dark Passion Rising Read online

  “Who are you and what do you want?” Tambra demanded, taking a defensive stance. The man was big, standing at least six foot one and leanly built in his designer suit. His face was still in shadow so she couldn’t get a good read on his intentions.

  “Temple Fox. I wanted a chance to meet you.”

  “How do you know me?” Tambra demanded, not relaxing her stance in the slightest.

  “I would have thought Valerian would have mentioned my name to you.” Disapproval was evident in his tone. “I am the leader of the Lycans here in Nevada.”

  “So you wanted to see what kind of dog I turned into? Sorry to disappoint you, but as you can see, no full moon yet, so no slavering beast yet. I’ll send you an invite on the happy occasion.”

  “Perhaps we can talk about this somewhere more private? We can go to my place, it is really quite comfortable,” Temple suggested.

  “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen, buddy. Right here is just fine with me.”

  “Very well, we will do this your way, Tambra. This time.” His condescending manner had her gritting her teeth. “I must say I do look forward to getting to know you better. Your beauty and fire are quite a pleasant surprise. I will enjoy showing you the world of which you will be part.”

  “If your world is anything like what I saw in the alley before becoming the main course for one of your kind, then thanks, but I’ll pass,” Tambra told him dryly.

  “I have heard the details of that horrendous night, and you have my heartfelt apologies for what you went through. The man who bit you was a Pure Blood, because of that, there is protocol to be met.”

  “Oh, well then I guess I should order my servants to bring us some tea.”

  She was getting so tired of everyone telling her what she would do. She was used to making her own decisions and she would be damned if anyone would dictate anything to her.

  He must have read her expression, since his next words were offered with a true ring of sincerity in his deep voice.

  “I can appreciate you being a bit on edge. Your whole world has been turned upside down.”

  She interrupted him with a humorless laugh.

  “A bit on edge? Here’s a news flash for you, Mr. Fox- I’m pissed off, and neither you nor Marcus is going to waltz into my life and suddenly rearrange it. Do you understand me?”

  Temple moved closer, his face illuminated by the moonlight. He was extremely handsome. She wondered if good looks were a prerequisite for being a Breed. His dark hair was cut short and waved away from a wide forehead. Dark brows shadowed his gold eyes and his full mouth quirked up at one corner, giving him a boyish charm.

  “You’re a woman with a great deal of strength, I like that. Tell me, Tambra, do you feel it?”

  He was so close she could smell the woodsy aftershave he wore. He raised a hand and stroked his finger over her cheek before she had time to jerk away from his touch. She narrowed her eyes up at him. His good looks and polished air left her flat. She felt no hint of attraction toward him, only irritation.

  “I am tired and would like to be left alone,” she said stiffly, taking a step backwards, feeling penned in by his closeness.

  Temple drew a deep breath, his nostrils flaring slightly, and a look of satisfaction crossed his face.

  “You are close to Rising, Tambra, but I can give you just a little more time before you take your rightful place amongst our people.”

  “Gee, how big of you.”

  Temple ignored her barb. “I do try to be compassionate when I have the luxury to do so.”

  “What if I don’t want to be one of ‘your’ people? Do you think you can force me?” she challenged.

  “Ah, Tambra, you’re so refreshingly naïve to the ways of the Breed world. Once you have gone through the Rising, you will discover this life you hold onto so tightly will lose its appeal. Then you will long for the company of others such as yourself.”

  “Of all the arrogant… you really are delusional if you think that,” Tambra scoffed. “Do you actually believe I would want you?” she demanded hotly.

  Temple’s white, even smile was menacing. His eyes hardened as he moved up against her, forcing her to look up at him. He ran his hands down her arms as he bent toward her, his hot breath tickling her ear.

  “I promise you, Tambra, after your Rising, you will gladly give me whatever I desire. Soon you will see that there is no place for you in this world but by my side.”

  Fear skittered up her spine, leaving her shivering as he released her suddenly. She could do nothing but stare as he turned away, moving back into the shadows. Not even the sound of his footsteps could be heard in the utter stillness of the night.

  ****

  The night was still. No breeze stirred to offer any respite from the oppressive heat of the day. Long black shadows reached, like greedy arms, toward the few streetlights lining the small street. A few homes were dispersed among empty lots, chained and padlocked against trespassers.

  Marcus moved silently down the street, wearing a jacket despite the heat to cover the daggers strapped across his chest. Sweat trickled down his spine. Moving past the last home on the street, he turned toward what looked like a local bar at the corner. A red and blue neon sign declared it to be The Asp. A fanged serpent flowed between the letters. Marcus opened the door and was immersed in a wall of cold air, spiced with the sweet metallic tang of blood, sex, and sweat.

  From the entrance, he scanned the crowded bar that curved around the smoke filled dance floor where couples gyrated to Buck Cherry’s Sexy Bitch. Dark, red leather booths lined the walls, filled with vampires and wannabes.

  Marcus hadn’t been in here in a long time, but some things never changed. There would always be humans who would willingly donate their blood to vampires, never really knowing whether they were amongst the real deal.

  He turned his attention to the black draped doorway by the bar, noting the massive body guard in front of the entrance. He knew what went on behind those black drapes. The rooms offered privacy for vampires to drink, fuck, or, more than likely, both. They were small and lavishly furnished, catering to a variety of tastes for the vampire who could afford it. He moved in that direction, the guard locked on him.

  “Marcus, where the hell have you been? Long time no see, my friend.” A husky, very feminine voice filtered over to him from the bar.

  Turning toward the voice, he found a small, petite woman behind the bar mixing drinks. Her dusky skin shone with the rosy hue of a recent feeding. Her dark curly hair, tamed by rows of braids, framed her heart shaped face.

  “Mari, it has been a long time. Business seems to be going well for you.” He smiled with genuine affection.

  Mari gave him an impish grin, showing the tips of her white, sharp fangs.

  “Never better. This keeps up I may have to find a bigger place.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “So, Marcus, what brings you to my doorstep? Christophe is a regular here, but you? You don’t write, you don’t call. Frankly I thought you had forgotten all about old Mari here.” She pouted prettily.

  “Old? Didn’t you hear that six hundred is the new thirty? And how could anyone forget you?” he laughed, hugging her fondly when she stepped out from behind the bar.

  “Such flattery! I think Christophe has taken his lessons from you. Now tell Mari, what I can offer you, hmm?”

  “I require one of your ladies for an hour.”

  Mari looked surprised. “Perhaps I have it wrong and you are taking up Christophe’s bad habits.”

  Marcus chuckled. “I’m afraid I can’t hold a candle to his voracious appetites.”

  “Too true. Any preference on ladies?

  Marcus caught himself before asking for a blue eyed blonde. “None.”

  Mari nodded to the hulking vampire at the drapes.

  “I will see if Tasha is available. Just make yourself comfortable.”

  Marcus moved through the hall, where the smell of blood and sex hung thi
ck, clinging to the back of his throat and in his nostrils. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh, the moans of pleasure and the grunts of completion filled his ears. Finding an unoccupied room in the rear, he made himself as comfortable as possible on the satin pillows that littered the room. Incense smoke drifted softly through the room. He looked up at the mirrored ceiling, trying to push away the image of Tambra lying upon the silk pillows, hair spread out, her body bare and waiting for his pleasure. His cock twitched at the image. He closed his eyes against the vision his mind tormented him with. He just needed blood and sex, then he would be able to kill this attraction he had toward the Pre-Rising woman.

  He heard the soft rustling of cloth and opened his eyes to the red haired beauty standing before him. She was dressed in a skimpy sundress that showed off her ample breasts and shapely legs. Her hair was long and straight, flowing down to her waist.

  “I’m Tasha, you were expecting me?” Her Russian accent was thick and husky.

  “Come to me.” He held out his hand. “Ease my hunger.”

  She eagerly gripped his hand and sank down next to him, tilting her head to the side to expose her throat while her hand wandered down his chest to his cock. Her body pressed invitingly against him, yet he remained cold. With his free hand he grabbed her wrist. The delicate network of blue veins tantalized his senses, sharpening his thirst.

  “Blood first,” he demanded, his voice harsh.

  She hesitantly nodded, removing her hand from him and again exposing her neck. Pulling her wrist toward him, he struck quickly, his long canines punching into her vein. She moaned in pleasure, squirming closer to his broad chest. Her blood filled his mouth, spilling down his throat and sending power through his blood stream. Taking deep pulls, he sated his hunger then lapped at her wounds to seal the deep punctures on her wrist before releasing her. He resisted the urge to fling her away from him. He rose, unable to stand the feel of her against him for another second, and sent her tumbling back against the pillows. Confusion clouded her pretty face as she looked up at him.

  “Thank you for your generosity. That is all I require,” Marcus mumbled, placing a few folded bills on the dresser before turning and heading out of the room. He didn’t stop until he was once again outside in the oppressive heat, the night shadows wrapping tightly around him, soothing his panic. Never in his long years of life had he been repelled by the nearness of a beautiful woman. That could only mean…no. He would not even think it. Fate could not be so cruel as to give him a Consort he could never have. Tambra belonged to another and that was the end of it.

  A movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention in time to see a figure duck between a house and vacant lot. Curiosity made him move forward until he stood looking down the long walkway between the house and the lot. At the end of the walkway, six figures moved out of the shadows to face him. He saw two vampires among the Weres as they circled around him.

  Ferals, he thought with disgust. Crouching low, he prepared for battle, knowing he was outnumbered, which was how he liked it. His lips twisted into a cold smile as he nodded at one particularly large Were.

  “Time to dance with the Devil,” Marcus said softly as he pulled one of his daggers free of its sheath.

  There was no more time for talk as the Weres attacked with a flash of teeth and claws.

  Chapter Eight

  Tambra looked at her bedside clock, rubbing eyes that felt like sandpaper. After her encounter with Temple she had showered, pulled on sweats and a tee shirt, and had just decided to get some sleep when her cell phone rang. Thinking it was Cody, she growled into the receiver and was caught by surprise when Miguel’s voice came through the other end.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time, querida?”

  “Miguel, no…yes, oh, damn. It’s just been a bad day all around.”

  “I am concerned about you, Tambra. Not as your boss, but as a friend. I have known you all your life. I think of you as a daughter. If you wish we can talk. It won’t take me long to get over there and we can have a nice, long visit.”

  Tambra groaned inwardly, the last thing she needed was to face Miguel’s concern.

  “Can I have a rain check? I was just crawling into bed.”

  “Of course, that may be for the best. Get some sleep and then perhaps tomorrow we can have that chat.”

  “Yes, No, I mean how about I call you in a few days?” She was so not ready to deal with Miguel, not until she could sort through everything that had happened.

  “Of course, remember I am here when you are ready to talk.” His disappointment filtered through the line.

  “I’ll call you back, promise, and then we’ll grab dinner and talk.” She hated the feeling of guilt that lay like a boulder in her chest. She was just so tired. Looking at her pillow with longing, she told Miguel goodnight, and turned her ringer off. With a sigh, she sunk into the softness of her pillow. Later, she would handle Miguel but not now. Within moments sleep once again claimed her.

  ****

  She was wide awake now. What had woken her? She heard the sound of something heavy hitting her door and jumped from the bed, grabbing a knife from the kitchen on her way to her door.

  “Move away from the door! I am a police officer and will not hesitate to use my gun if you don’t comply now,” she bluffed. A muffled groan came through the door.

  “It’s me, Marcus. Let me in.”

  She ignored the sudden acceleration of her pulse and opened her door, coming face to face with the vampire. She couldn’t help the surprise from showing on her face as she took in his torn chest and the deep gashes in his upper thigh. Judging by the amount of blood pooling at his feet, he was bleeding out quickly. Tambra wasn’t sure if blood loss could kill a vampire, but it sure as hell looked like a possibility. She stumbled under his weight as she wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders, pulled him into her living room, and eased him onto the sofa. She locked the door, dropped her knife on the kitchen table, then ran and got towels to stem the blood flow. He hissed in pain, lines of tension bracketing his mouth as she used the towels to apply pressure to the wounds on his chest and thigh. His dark eyes tracked her movements as she made strips from one towel and tied it tightly around his thigh.

  “Sorry about your sofa, I’m afraid it’s ruined,” he slurred as he struggled to remain conscious.

  “You can buy me a new one. I thought you guys were indestructible, what happened?”

  A small smile played over his lips. Tambra fought the sudden desire to feel those lips on her own. What was it about him that made her react like this?

  “I walked into a trap. Several ferals were waiting for me.”

  “How did they know where you would be?” Tambra frowned.

  “That’s what I would like to know,” he sighed, leaning his head back against the cushions. “I just…just need a few moments,” he murmured, slipping into unconsciousness.

  Tambra cut off his shirt and jeans, unable to get to his wounds in any other way while he was unconscious. She couldn’t stop herself from running her hand along the thick slabs of muscle on his chest. The white scars were smooth under her fingers. Her eyes strayed down past the ridges of his abs to the thin dark trail of hair that ran from his belly button to his groin. Her eyes widened at the size of his flaccid cock resting against his thigh. Her fingers ached to touch him there. She forced herself to rise and retrieve a blanket from the closet to cover him up. With the tension gone from his face he looked younger, vulnerable. An urge to protect the man lying helpless on her sofa welled up inside of her. He was, after all, a fellow cop, in a way. It was her duty to help one of her own.

  She retreated to the bathroom. She needed another shower and time to get a better perspective on what was happening to her and on her feelings for the darkly handsome, and dangerous, vampire.

  ****

  Marcus slowly became aware of his surroundings. Soft cushions supported his back, his legs stuck out over the armrest of the sofa he lay upon. He m
oved slowly at first, testing his abused body. When no pain followed, he moved into a sitting position. The blanket that covered him pooled in his lap. He noted he was naked except for white bandages that were taped to his chest and thigh. Thinking of Tambra’s hands removing his clothing, touching his skin as she tended his wounds, made his blood travel south to his hardening cock.

  He took in his surroundings, noting that the room held a minimum of furniture. No knickknacks of any kind could be found on the coffee table or bookshelves, as if the owner cared little for material objects. The only picture in the room was in an inexpensive wooden frame and sat on the nicked coffee table. In it, a burly, elderly man was grinning, his arm around Tambra in her uniform. By the beaming look of pride on the older man’s face Marcus assumed he was Tambra’s father.

  The sound of water running in the other room brought him to his feet. The blanket dropped to the floor next to his blood stained jeans. He moved into Tambra’s bedroom as the water shut off. Like the rest of the apartment, it felt empty. Only a large bed and night stand with a clock on top of it filled the room.

  The bathroom door opened, emitting a cloud of steam. The scent of her rose soap assailed his senses as she stepped through the door. He was riveted to the spot, he knew he should turn around and leave, but his feet refused to move. His eyes roved hungrily over her towel draped body, her long hair dark gold as it clung wetly to her shoulders and back. He heard her quick intake of breath, and caught the barest hint of her arousal rising between them. Her blue eyes, the color of a summer sky, caught and held his for a moment before he lowered his gaze to her mouth. He could hear her heart beat faster, her breath harsher as her eyes burned a path down his body like fingers stroking him.

  She moved gracefully toward him. The tops of her breast swelled above the tightly wrapped towel, making him clench his fists against the need to touch the creamy mounds. He tracked her eyes as they moved over his body, to where his erection jutted out from between his legs. He had forgotten he was naked. He needed to retreat back into the living room before he did something they would both regret, but he could not move away from her. She came to stand so close he could feel her warm breath on his chest, making his cock throb. One small, pale hand tentatively stroked his chest, causing him to catch his breath as an electric current traveled from her fingers to his aching cock. Her gasp told him she felt it too.