Chapter One
“Darling,” Mirrazan said, twirling her long black talon around his navel, “if you can’t be good, then you have to be bad and I’m definitely bad.” Centuries bad . She lifted her chin to look at him, along the length of his naked torso. “If you wanted to fuck an angel, then you shouldn’t be here with me.”
He laughed. “We’ve been fucking for hours, and still you want more. Are you on something? If you are, then I want some of it, too!”
“No,” she said, rising on her knees, straddling him, her heat bathing his rigid prick. “But I’m on something now.” She plunged down and his cock slid into her, gliding as smooth as silk until she reached his uttermost length. She pivoted her hips and he groaned. “You like this?”
His glazed expression made her smile. He moaned as she twisted back and forth, his nails imprinting her buttocks. She leaned forward, her body covering his. Her mouth rested at the base of his throat, where his pulse beat wildly. She bit and the blood flowed into her mouth, a blistering, salty tide that was ambrosia, this human elixir that tasted as no other. And as she drank, he died.
Mirra pulled back, horrified. He had endured, no—exulted in her lovemaking, matching her greed as best he could, demanding, taking, receiving. But this simplest of exchanges had killed him. Why? Placing her palm against his now inert chest, she read him and sensed a shattered artery from an imperfect heart.
* * * *
“But I killed him, Sula!” Mirrazan said.
Sula waved her hand dismissively. “He was a beast of the field, no more, no less. Humans kill and consume without compunction, they—”
“I have a choice.”
“So do they. They choose to kill for food. In the act of destruction, they give no pleasure. Ironic, isn’t it. The myths of this world call us monsters. In reality, it is they who are the monsters, because they take and never give.” Sula leaned forward and tapped her red talon against Mirrazan’s wrist. “Have no sympathy for them! Play with them, fuck them, use them, but when you do, never let kindness enter your two hearts. They are not worthy of our love. If it’s love you seek, then return home and mate with a Blood.”
“I like it here,” Mirra said. “Australia is such a land of contrasts. Age and youth.”
Sula snorted. “You are a romantic. It will be your downfall.”
Mirra sighed. This discussion with her mentor had often occurred over the years and always ended with the same result. She went away feeling unclean, and determined never to have another human—male or female—just for the taste. Resolutions were made to be broken and she eventually broke them all, despite her fiercest resolve. But this latest death was her first and it must be the last.
“You care too much, Mirrazan.” Sula shook her head. “It is your greatest fault.”
“It is a fault I live with, then. They call us succubi,” Mirra said. “Demons consuming for own pleasure. How little they understand. I wish…”
“And they love it. Never forget that! For what we give them, the taste of the immoral, they kill without conscience. And if some of them die with our pleasuring, what does that matter?” Sula leaned back and frowned, studying with amber eyes. “You need to hunt again. Your energy aura is pink. It ought to be red. You know that. How long has it been since you fed?”
“When…that man…”
“That was two weeks ago. Feed and live, or starve and die. That is the only law you should recognise. It is our birth right. Now, go! I have my own hunt to prepare.” She paused, her gaze glowing. “Perhaps you ought to hunt with me tonight? I’m going to Gothika .”
Mirra snorted. Gothika …the bar where many Blood Hunters chose to gather, where they assumed a persona to lure their human prey. The humans didn’t even realise it was a game, where they were mocked, observed, and devoured.
“I hate Gothika !” Mirra studied her sister-mentor. With her
“Darling,” Mirrazan said, twirling her long black talon around his navel, “if you can’t be good, then you have to be bad and I’m definitely bad.” Centuries bad . She lifted her chin to look at him, along the length of his naked torso. “If you wanted to fuck an angel, then you shouldn’t be here with me.”
He laughed. “We’ve been fucking for hours, and still you want more. Are you on something? If you are, then I want some of it, too!”
“No,” she said, rising on her knees, straddling him, her heat bathing his rigid prick. “But I’m on something now.” She plunged down and his cock slid into her, gliding as smooth as silk until she reached his uttermost length. She pivoted her hips and he groaned. “You like this?”
His glazed expression made her smile. He moaned as she twisted back and forth, his nails imprinting her buttocks. She leaned forward, her body covering his. Her mouth rested at the base of his throat, where his pulse beat wildly. She bit and the blood flowed into her mouth, a blistering, salty tide that was ambrosia, this human elixir that tasted as no other. And as she drank, he died.
Mirra pulled back, horrified. He had endured, no—exulted in her lovemaking, matching her greed as best he could, demanding, taking, receiving. But this simplest of exchanges had killed him. Why? Placing her palm against his now inert chest, she read him and sensed a shattered artery from an imperfect heart.
* * * *
“But I killed him, Sula!” Mirrazan said.
Sula waved her hand dismissively. “He was a beast of the field, no more, no less. Humans kill and consume without compunction, they—”
“I have a choice.”
“So do they. They choose to kill for food. In the act of destruction, they give no pleasure. Ironic, isn’t it. The myths of this world call us monsters. In reality, it is they who are the monsters, because they take and never give.” Sula leaned forward and tapped her red talon against Mirrazan’s wrist. “Have no sympathy for them! Play with them, fuck them, use them, but when you do, never let kindness enter your two hearts. They are not worthy of our love. If it’s love you seek, then return home and mate with a Blood.”
“I like it here,” Mirra said. “Australia is such a land of contrasts. Age and youth.”
Sula snorted. “You are a romantic. It will be your downfall.”
Mirra sighed. This discussion with her mentor had often occurred over the years and always ended with the same result. She went away feeling unclean, and determined never to have another human—male or female—just for the taste. Resolutions were made to be broken and she eventually broke them all, despite her fiercest resolve. But this latest death was her first and it must be the last.
“You care too much, Mirrazan.” Sula shook her head. “It is your greatest fault.”
“It is a fault I live with, then. They call us succubi,” Mirra said. “Demons consuming for own pleasure. How little they understand. I wish…”
“And they love it. Never forget that! For what we give them, the taste of the immoral, they kill without conscience. And if some of them die with our pleasuring, what does that matter?” Sula leaned back and frowned, studying with amber eyes. “You need to hunt again. Your energy aura is pink. It ought to be red. You know that. How long has it been since you fed?”
“When…that man…”
“That was two weeks ago. Feed and live, or starve and die. That is the only law you should recognise. It is our birth right. Now, go! I have my own hunt to prepare.” She paused, her gaze glowing. “Perhaps you ought to hunt with me tonight? I’m going to Gothika .”
Mirra snorted. Gothika …the bar where many Blood Hunters chose to gather, where they assumed a persona to lure their human prey. The humans didn’t even realise it was a game, where they were mocked, observed, and devoured.
“I hate Gothika !” Mirra studied her sister-mentor. With her
Similar Books
