Eternal Blood: Chapter One

Warning: the following extract contains explicit sex scenes and language. It is not recommended for people under the age of 18.


It was like being back in the hospital again, this feeling of deep and overwhelming intensity—an intensity he had no control over. And the images that flickered through his mind; he couldn’t hold on to them in any real way, get a fix on them. Then there were voices. Three voices at once, and all coming fast.

Fast and furious as fuck.

With instructions he couldn’t comprehend, demands he wasn’t certain he wanted to give in to, and a pressure inside his skull to open wide and receive, Gray Donohue slammed open his eyes and hissed a fierce, “Stop! Christ. It’s too much.”

The quick images and harsh demands ringing inside his skull suddenly evaporated and he could breathe once again, focus again—even with the irritated and disappointed glares of the three Impures who encircled him.

“What’s the problem?” came the gruff voice at his shoulder.

Eyes narrowed, Gray turned to regard Riordon James, the massive Impure male with night-black eyes who had served most of his life in the human armed forces until he’d been caught bunking with a couple of his superior male officers.

“I thought you liked threesomes,” the male added with a growl of insincerity.

“I do,” Gray returned darkly. “Unfortunately this one lacked the dirty talk I need to get it up. All that angel white noise you tossed my way really turned me off.”

Gray watched the male’s mouth thin even further than normal. One bullshit joke deserved another, didn’t it? Besides, his idea of a threesome was naked, sweaty and mutually pleasurable. It sure as hell wasn’t obliging three fully clothed Impure warriors who were attempting to drill his brain for answers—find out if he was the missing piece to their puzzle.

Per usual, Riordon wasn’t giving up or moving on. His nostrils flared as he said, “You want dirty talk, do you, Impure?”

“Come on, Rio,” Piper Leigh, the blond female Impure across from Gray, said quickly and calmly. “Not necessary.”

But her words were lost on the tank-like male, and in seconds his eyes narrowed and a wave of intensity shot through Gray’s mind like an emotional bullet along with the words:


It was like audio feedback times a thousand and Gray grit his teeth against the assault. The feeling of the words themselves inside his head weren’t clear and present like Alexander’s were, like anyone he could hear in his mind. No. These words slammed into his very being and ricocheted off his bones and muscle—it was like freaking God’s voice booming around in there, and he tried not to jerk in response as he stared back at Riordon.

“Dirty enough for you?” the male asked, dark amusement glittering in his black eyes.

Gray choked out a bitter reply, “Not exactly what I had in mind, but I respect the effort.”

Realizing he hadn’t killed Gray’s pluck as he’d hoped, Riordon snorted with disgust and turned away. “This is bullshit. He’s bullshit.”

“How about a break?” Piper asked, her pale lavender eyes bright with concern.

“We don’t have time for breaks,” said the male to her right—and to Gray’s left. “This needs to get done, get settled so we can continue our fight.”

The third member of the small but powerful vampiric coven was nearly as intense as the first, but where Riordon was powerful and solid, milkwhite skin over icy hard muscle, Vincent Seal sported long, lean athleticism wrapped up in dark caramel skin, eyes and hair.

“I think we all need to chill out,” Piper said, her eyes still connecting with Gray as though she were trying to read his mind, though her gifts were more akin to changing the thoughts of others. “He’s just getting his feet wet here.”

His feet, Gray thought bitterly, glancing down. Where his feet had once been planted in the posh living quarters of the Roman brothers’ household, they were now uncertainly tap dancing around a circle of red color and interwoven lines; the symbol of what he had come to realize was the Impure resistance, inside a sparsely furnished, unromantic warehouse space in the Bronx. It was the real deal here. No Ethan Dare plotting and sex parties—no Impures laid out on cushy mats and pillows as they attempted to bump and grind their way to respect and equality with the Pureblood communities they served. This was real . . . and raw, and blatantly stated that there was work to be done.

After leaving the Romans, Gray hadn’t gone looking for these three gifted Impure warriors. He had been on the hunt for a purpose to his life, true—but he had been hoping to find a group of similar minded Impures, ready to band together and plan for the future. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on the outcome, Piper, Riordon and Vincent had found him first, convinced him that he belonged with them, to them—and to the cause he truly sought.

Granted, the three of them had mental gifts that Gray could understand and relate to, but he wasn’t altogether certain he wanted a part of whatever they were planning.

He stared at the symbol carved into the floor at their feet. Four coiled snakes with fangs extended. They had used their own blood to paint the symbol. It was their talisman, they said. It helped them both invoke power and calm their minds.

These three vipers.

And he was supposed to be their fourth.

A force that may be able to withstand the powers of the Order.

“His feet are as wet as they’re going to get,” Riordon said, snapping Gray from his thoughts.

“I say you get your head in the game or get out, Donohue.”

“Fuck you,” Gray uttered, stepping back, out of the circle—out of their line of fire. “You push too hard, too far. I’m working on it, okay!” Working on deciding if he wanted to walk through this door or not, give in to another who wanted access to his brain.

Vincent shook his head. “You know nothing of work, Gray. Not yet.” He turned to Riordon. “And no matter how much he irritates us, he’s not going anywhere. He will remain and watch us—see what we can do without him—then perhaps later he will join us to see—”

“What we can do WITH him,” Piper finished, giving the male a slash of a grin.

Vincent’s dark brow lifted. “Finishing my sentences again, Pip? Makes me feel like we’re still together.”

“Just a bad habit, Sweets. One I’m really trying to kick—just like I did our relationship.”

“Thank Christ,” Riordon uttered. “Don’t need those images in my head again.”

Gray shoved his arms in his jacket. “I hate to interrupt the trip down memory lane, but maybe you could give me a clue as to what you’re planning. Not just that bullshit pat answer about gaining equality within the Breed.” He eyeballed each one of them. “I want details.”

Piper shook her head. “No details until we’ve cracked you, until the bond between us has fused.”

“Until we trust you,” Vincent added.

Gray was getting tired of these non-answers. “So I have to give you my brain before I get your trust. What if I want your trust before I give you my brain?”

Vincent shook his head. “No can do.”

Gray sniffed. “Sounds like you get all the power and I get left in the dark.”

“He’s not the one,” Riordon muttered, sitting on his haunches, running his fingers over the symbol. “I say we cut him loose.”

“Not necessary,” Gray tossed out, heading for the door.

“Behind him,” Vincent called, “We don’t have time to dick around, Gray. We want you. Need you. You could very well be the missing piece of our puzzle.”

Gray stopped and turned around. “And if I am?”

The gold flash in Vincent’s dark eyes was so bright it seemed to jet across the room. “Then we have use of you.”

“Not interested in being used.”

Riordon snorted, his gaze shifting from the symbol to Gray. “Unless it’s for your cock, right?”

Gray’s nostrils flared. “At least that’s mutually satisfying. Whereas this . . .” He shook his head. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Gray, wait a sec,” Piper called after him.

“Gotta go. My cock and I have a date.”

As Gray walked out of the room, he heard Vincent say, “Rio’s got a point, Pip. We don’t have the time or the room for a piece of soggy ass milk toast. We need a trained mind and a passionate heart. If he isn’t the one, then we’ll go it alone while we find the true fourth piece.”

The one. Gray snorted his derision and his disbelief as he stalked down the hall. What was this? The fucking Matrix? He wasn’t special, wasn’t anything but an Impure head case who refused to be controlled. Heading out of the building, his jaw tight as his asshole, he thought about his sister, his family—in particular his mother. How she’d kept what she was, what they all were, from him. And for what? To protect him? Protect herself? He wasn’t interested in being protected anymore, wasn’t interested in hiding and plotting and planning. He wasn’t interested in being anyone’s savior. He just wanted to be one of the pack—an Impure among all the others.

The wind bit at his skin as he moved down the street. But it wasn’t going to be easy to just blend in and be a follower. It seemed as though the world was always attempting to make decisions for him—and without consulting him. Yes, he wanted to help the Impures. Yes, he thought they were getting a raw deal, but was it really that bad? They had the choice to stay in their credentis or get out into the real world, didn’t they?

He’d just come off Ethan Dare’s mind fuck of a ride. This time, he would choose where he got on and when he got off.

He rounded the corner and grinned. And speaking of getting off . . .

He jumped the curb and stepped right in front of the Hummer limo that skidded to a stop, inches from his gut. Without a thought or a word for the driver, he sprang onto the hood like a cat, walked easily up the windshield and when the sunroof opened he dropped inside.

His boots hit the floor with a dull thud, and the feminine gasp at his back had him turning around with a quick whoosh.

“Damn, sugar. We could’ve killed you.” Clad only in a hot pink trench coat—just as Gray had instructed—the woman sat up straight on the long back seat, her legs crossed at the ankles.

“It would take a lot more than that to kill me,” Gray said, his gaze moving over her, from painted toes to cleavage too rock hard to be real. But shit, who was really real these days anyway? He raised one arrogant brow. “Now, let’s see if you followed my instructions. Lie back like a good girl.”

The woman’s skin went pink, and she called out to the driver and his companion. “Circle the block, Beecham.”

“Yes, ma’am,” came the reply.

“Until she tells you to stop,” Gray ordered, his finger pressing down on the button for the privacy screen.

Before the glass even hit the top, the woman was reclining back in her seat, her eyes intermittently opening and closing as though she were tired.

Or in heat, Gray thought, amused as he yanked the belt from her coat, tossed it to the floor and spread the lapels wide. She wasn’t wearing a thing, save for the thin landing strip of hair at her core. Gray licked his lips and felt the tips of his fangs respond to his desire. He was a vampire. An Impure, true—but a vampire nonetheless, who lusted for blood and sex and more often than not the combination of both. He hovered over her, let his fire ravaged fingers trail down her taut and tan stomach, to her pelvic bone. He felt his mind shift with the action, first widen, then calm. This was where he excelled, where he felt real and right and needed. His ruined hands on skin, his mouth feeding—his cock inside a hot, wet pussy. There was something in the sound of a female’s scream of pleasure that took his mind away, stole all shards of confusion and questioning about who he was, what he was. Inside a female, fingers, cock and tongue, he was air, light, adrift. Maybe that was weakness, maybe that was the Impure in him . . .

The woman hissed as he brushed his index finger through her hair, over her sensitive clit and to the opening of her body. He felt the gentle pulse of the vibrator caught inside and nodded.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to punish you.”

Her hips tilted up and she bit her lower lip. “This is punishment. Torture.” She let out a soft moan. “Take it out. Please, take it out. I can’t hold on much longer.”

Weak human female. He pressed the vibrator deeper into her pussy and growled, “You haven’t come already, have you?”

She gasped, gripped the leather seat and shook her head. “No. I swear.”

“I’ll be able to tell. In fact . . .” He eased the vibrator from her body, then thrust two fingers up inside of her.

She cried out, bucked her hips, and slammed her cunt against his knuckles.

He chuckled softly. “No, no . . . You haven’t come yet. Your walls weep with an unclaimed hunger.” He pressed his thumb to her clit and stroked her, then lowered his head and sucked hard on one large pink nipple, biting at her the way she liked.

“Oh, god,” she uttered breathlessly, arching her back, giving herself over to him.

No resistance here. She wanted him, would give him anything—give in to anything. That knowledge made his cock stand up, pulse even, but it didn’t fully satisfy his desire. Not anymore.

“Please,” she whimpered, her eyes closed, her cheeks inflamed, her hips swaying back and forth, hitting the black leather seat, then slapping against Gray’s wet knuckles. “I need you. I can’t . . . I’ll die . . .”

What would satisfy him fully, he wondered? Not taking what wasn’t offered, but perhaps a total loss of control . . . for her . . . for him?

“All right,” he whispered. “I will help you—just this once.”

He would be done with her tonight. His need had outgrown the sweet and simple play of this female and the others like her. But until midnight struck, he would forget all. He would forget the grand plan, the work of his brain, his mind—the connection to his fellow Impures and their need to bring down the Order, while bringing themselves into a position of power. Because, truly—THIS was the power he craved!

He ripped off the female’s coat, eased his fingers from her quivering cunt and mounted her. She shook beneath him, her gaze finding his, her eyes so heavy with need and excitement and desperation to connect. He looked away. She wasn’t his, didn’t belong to him. They were about basic and mutual pleasure—a quick and easy distraction from their lives.

They were cunt and cock and nothing more.

With that, he sank into her hot, wet sheath and let her thoughts lead him toward climax. Slow easy stokes, his fingers pressed deep into her backside, his mouth, his tongue moving from one breast to the other, then up—up until his lips met the curve of her neck. He raked his fangs up and down her skin. Not a bite, just scratches.

Revved up now, her heart slamming inside her ribs, she wrapped her legs around his waist and slammed her hips against him in wild, manic thrusts, her cries for release getting louder by the moment. The males in the front seat heard her now just as Gray could hear their thoughts.

Lucky bastard.

Wish I could tap that.

Grinning, Gray turned his attention back to the woman, to his own rising climax, but as he heard her fall into orgasm just as her body stiffened beneath his, the images he’d tried so hard to shove into the trash of his mind began to show up. He tried pushing them away, but the stubborn bastards wouldn’t budge.

The fire, the fucking fire.

The hospital.

And her.



Fuck, he didn’t want her! Didn’t want her anywhere near his mind right now. Why did she always come at him when he was getting so close to coming himself? And why was she wrapped up in his memories of the past?

He pounded into the woman, his thrusts bringing vision after vision to the backs of his eyelids. Dillon in his house, Dillon running into the fire.


He slammed into the woman harder, deeper, working her good, sending her into another earth shaking climax as come surge into his balls, ready to shoot home.

The female below him screamed, writhed and begged for his climax both aloud and deep inside her mind. Fully aware of the stupidity of the move, Gray’s fangs pierced the flesh of her neck. Fuck it, he was hungry—manically hungry and he would be fed.

But he never tasted blood.

Never reached her vein.

Never captured release.

Before the next breath left his body, a net, invisible and impenetrable, was thrown around him and he was yanked from the body of the writhing human female.

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