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Bitten Beauty: Deadly Beauties Live On, #3
by C.M. Owens
Ratings:
363 pages6 hours
Summary
From the Deadly Beauties Live On Series...
ZEE
I didn't choose this life. I didn't choose my fate. In fact, fate seems to have thing for fucking me over. Leah is just one more thing I didn't choose, and now I'm fighting everything in me not to turn her into the monster I never wanted to be. But we both know what's going to happen in the end, because as always, I have no control.
LEAH
He's wrong and right in the same breath. He's terrible and perfect. Most importantly, he's my savior and my damnation. This world isn't supposed to exist, and I'm not sure if I'm insane or dreaming. Either way, I can't stay away from Zee, even if it means I might lose myself to him completely. Thing is... He's the safest option, because every path is deadlier than the last.
Publisher: C.M. OwensReleased: Nov 30, 2015ISBN: 9781519930361Format: book
Book Preview
Bitten Beauty - C.M. Owens
KYA
LOST BEAUTY sneak peek.
Playlist for Bitten Beauty:
Aquarius – Digital Daggers
Couldn’t Stop Caring – The Spiritual Machines
Weak – Seether
Seven Nation Army – The White Stripes
Whore – In This Moment
I Get Off – Halestorm
Centuries – Fall Out Boy
Face Everything and Rise – Papa Roach
Freak Like Me – Halestorm
Radioactive – Imagine Dragons
Dangerous – Shaman’s Harvest
Porn Star Dancing – My Darkest Days
Shatter Me – Lindsey Stirling Ft. Lzzy Hale
Amen – Halestorm
Back In Black – AC/DC
E.T. – Katy Perry
Dark Horse – Katy Perry
The Bad Touch – Bloodhound Gang
Chapter 1
LEAH
I’m not sure about this,
I say warily.
I’m starting to regret ever agreeing to feed Marilyn’s delusion.
It’s just a club,
she says too casually.
My eyes flit around the room at all the people who are engaged in lusty role play. There are large, black and red velvety couches and chairs everywhere. The low lights cast a hazy glow on all the writhing bodies that might as well be moving things to a bedroom.
I swallow hard when I see them actually drinking from each other. Their fake fangs dig into the soft flesh, and blood spills in trickles. They lap it up, making sounds akin to pleasure as opposed to disgust.
I’m going to be sick.
"This is not just a club," I hiss.
She swats a dismissive hand as though she feels I’m overreacting. I’m not. At all.
I’ve had to do a lot of weird things with her in the past, but this tops the crazy charts. I didn’t realize being her assistant would be such a hands-on job. Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m being the friend or the employee.
Fine. It’s a vampire role playing club. I need this for research. It’s important that I become completely submersed in their world—no matter how far-fetched and ludicrous it might sound.
At least she still admits this is all absurd. Sometimes I wonder if she has crossed the line of researcher into believer, and if she has truly detached herself from reality. All these mythological research missions turned into occult research missions a while back.
I appreciate the fact she’s a very thorough researcher—for her nonfiction pieces on underground clubs and secret societies—but I’m not keen on being involved with said research.
I’m a logical person most days, so it’s hard to engage and try to get inside their heads.
This is her obsession and her publishing deal, not mine. When I signed up for the job, I expected to be making phone calls and scheduling appointments for her.
I never thought I’d be standing here in a short leather skirt and a barely-there scrap of a red shirt that shows all of my back and most of my stomach. High heels and I do not get along very well, either, but I’m frigging wearing them. Maybe we should discuss proper work attire.
"You don’t really plan to let someone... do that, do you?" I ask, my stomach churning as I motion to a girl who is lying across a man’s lap as he sucks blood from her wrist.
She turns to me with patented determination in her eyes. She’s definitely going to do it.
I can’t write about something I haven’t ever truly experienced. It’ll be like I’m writing a lie. And I don’t write fiction.
She glances around the room, and I swear she looks a little excited. Besides, it can’t be that bad. You have to admit that it’s seductive.
My brain is still firmly attached to reality, so no; I don’t find it seductive.
I look over just as a girl bows her body into the arms of a man, arching her chest against him as he sucks from her neck. Her moans reach us even over the low beat of the scandalous music, and I find myself squirming. Okay... Maybe it’s a little seductive.
Look at how free they all seem. It’s as though they have no inhibitions,
Marilyn points out, turning her eyes back to the room. "And I had to work really damn hard to get an invitation here. It’s not like there’s a fat sign on the door—hence the underground club title. I had to lie to people and bribe them left and right, because this place is very exclusive. Now make yourself useful and chat up some wannabe vampires."
She struts off, leaving me on my own, and I sigh while slowly walking around the room, taking in the scenery. Oh damn. Is his hand really up her dress and moving in front of everyone?
I cut my eyes away from the latest naughty couple, and head straight for the bar. I definitely need a drink if I’m really going to stay here.
When I finish placing my order, I start looking around once again. But my eyes freeze on one sight that I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from.
There’s a guy sitting in a chair in the corner with a girl sitting on the floor between his legs. She’s talking to another couple on the sofa next to them, but the guy’s eyes are trained on me as he studies me very intently. And I can’t seem to stop staring back.
He’s wearing a black, sleeveless shirt that hugs the lines of muscle on his long, lean body, and he’s holding his chin with a hand that has black painted nails. Gothic has never been my thing, but he wears it like a pro—a sexy, ungodly gorgeous pro.
Long, intricately detailed lines of ink run the full lengths of his arms, looking so good against the tanned skin of his body. His inky black hair is styled in a short faux-hawk with dark blue tips that I can see from here.
He’s everything I’ve never been attracted to, but now I can’t stop looking at him as though he’s exactly what I’ve always wanted.
Two black leather cuffs are on his wrists, and his black combat boots stick out from the bottoms of his dark denim jeans. In real life, he’s probably an accountant or something. But this is role play, so he can be dark and mysterious here.
His steady gaze doesn’t waver, and I feel heat in all the wrong places as he starts absently strumming one of his long fingers over the crease of his lips. It takes more effort than it should, but I finally manage to break eye contact. It helps that the girl between his legs has now gotten up onto her knees and is slipping her hands under his shirt.
Don’t look back, Leah.
Another one,
I tell the bartender once I gulp down my martini.
As he slides a new glass in front of me, a body is suddenly pressed against my back, and I go tense all over. Shit.
They don’t usually let virgins in here,
a deep, sexy voice says too close to my ear, his breath fanning my face and leaving me with unbidden chills.
I’m not a virgin. Not since high school,
I blurt out, silently cursing my broken filter.
Did I really just frigging say that?
A low chuckle emanates from his chest and vibrates against my back. I can’t blame him for laughing. If I wasn’t utterly mortified with the stupid confession I just made, I’d laugh at myself.
My eyes finally rise up to the wide mirror in front of me, and my breath catches in my throat. Despite the numerous liquor bottles that hinder the vision of the reflection, I can see him clearly. It’s him—the guy I was pretty much openly drooling over.
His hands slide down my sides, igniting a fiery trail as tingles course through me, and I essentially quit breathing. He really shouldn’t be so damn sexy.
I’m sure you’re not a virgin in that way,
he says, the smile on his face matching the smile in his voice. I was referring to the fact you’re a first-timer—never bitten. This club is full of seasoned players.
Swallowing hard, I ignore the glowing red stain that is heating my cheeks. Oh,
I say lamely. I’m not. I do this all the time.
His smile only grows. If that were so, you wouldn’t have turned into stone the second I got close. Right now, you could be snapped with the slightest movement.
His hands venture down farther, sliding onto my thighs as he presses completely against my back, and then his eyes meet mine in the mirror. Damn. Those are some seriously blue eyes.
Don’t say anything,
I murmur pathetically. I don’t want to get my friend kicked out.
The girl researching the place?
he asks, amused. He’s been paying too much attention. How does he know about Marilyn?
Instead of asking questions, I just nod in response to his query.
And what do you think about all of... this?
he asks softly, his hands sliding back up to my waist, moving against the bare skin that I’ve left abundantly exposed.
I think... it’s seductive,
I stammer, my voice breaking on the words.
His touch is like fire that is heating everything inside of me while simultaneously igniting small sparks of electricity in me as well. And his too-blue eyes are still fully trained on mine, holding me captive in the mirror as though I’m his to claim.
Not yet,
he murmurs.
Huh?
is all I manage to squeak out in my confusion.
I said not yet,
he repeats, but I’m still confused. "You don’t find it seductive yet."
His grin changes from amusement to something else—something dark and daring—and I think I shiver. It’s hard to tell what my body is doing right now.
He bites his bottom lip before leaning down and inhaling against my dark brown hair that carries a subtle tint of red. His hands continue to move across the pieces of my bare flesh, and he nips my earlobe, causing me to jump. I can’t see his fake fangs, but I know they’re there somewhere.
Easy, baby,
he says, grinning again. I’m not going to draw blood.
His tone is mocking, and his eyes open up to meet mine once again in the mirror. Those have to be contacts. They’re a glowing blue that can’t be natural.
When you walked in, you were shocked and somewhat repulsed,
he tells me, nibbling my earlobe once again. Then you became curious.
He slides his hand up my stomach, and my heart sputters when he moves up even higher and traces the line of my cleavage. It takes all my strength not to swat his hand away.
After curiosity came a deeper intrigue, especially when you saw me.
He holds my gaze fearlessly in the reflection, daring me to try and say otherwise. I don’t bother, because my gawking earlier left me transparent, apparently.
Now you’re scared, but fascinated,
he tells me, brushing my hair away from my neck as he starts swaying me to the music.
I want off this stool and in his arms. It almost feels like I’m drunk right now. How the hell strong were those drinks?
Your body is feeling things your mind is chastising you for, and you’re restrained by your everyday sets of morals and logic. You want to be as free as the others, but you pride yourself on being... more grounded, we’ll say. But in my arms, you’ve almost forgotten that you’re not one of them.
He pulls me closer, and my head tips back against his chest. I don’t even feel like me right now. It’s as though there’s a spell in the air, and I’m stuck in his thrall. It’s scary how accurate he is.
You’ve almost resigned yourself to submitting, because now you actually want this. Even though you found it laughable moments ago, you find yourself wishing I’d just do it so you can see what it’s like.
His lips brush the side of my head, and his hands venture back down, sliding over my breasts without any restrictions or hesitation. Then they work their way back up until he’s gently holding my neck.
It would take very little for me to convince you to lie down and let me take you in ways you’re too shy to even fantasize about, and you’d be addicted after just one time. Your mind would open to avenues you’ve never thought you wanted to explore, and you’d be desperate for more. All you’d have to do is fully submit—offer yourself to me without limitations—and your entire life would spin on a different axis.
He takes his time, not making any sudden movements as he gingerly strokes the length of my neck, and then he continues.
You want to know if it hurts, but you see them aroused, so your mind is trying to sift through the contradicting variables. There’s pain, but there’s more pleasure than anything else. It’s euphoric—a high unlike any other. It’s something wrong in the eyes of many, silly in the eyes of most, but intoxicating to the eyes of everyone willing to submit.
My breaths become erratic and painful as my heart pounds fiercely. He moves closer to my neck, sliding his lips down my jaw, and I tilt my head without reservation. When his lips touch the skin of my throat, I moan as though he has just done something much more intimate.
But then he merely kisses it, sucking it lightly, and withdraws as my whole body thunders and pleads for more. Why did he stop?
He looks into the mirror as his hands drop from my body, and he smirks. Now you know what seductive really is. Too bad I don’t play with virgins. This was fun.
He just completely and totally toyed with me. Now I feel like an idiot.
He turns to walk away, and I scowl at his back. I think I at least deserve a name after that.
Yeah, it’s pathetic, but I want to know his damn name. Then I can look him up and find out that he’s really a boring accountant who has blood pressure medicine in his cabinets at home. It’ll help release me from this... whatever it is that he’s left me with.
His eyes meet mine over his shoulder, and he holds that cocky grin in place.
It’s Zee.
With that, he disappears into the shuffle of the crowd, and I lean back. That’s not much of a name to go on, but I doubt many people in this town have that name. While Marilyn is working on her book, I’ll do some research of my own.
Screw that. I’m not letting him inside my head. He’s just a guy wearing fake fangs and playing a game for the twisted.
I stand up and move through the bodies that are now writhing to the music on the makeshift dance floor. It doesn’t take me but a moment to find him, because he has a girl already wrapped around him. The second his eyes meet mine, he releases his newest toy and comes directly to me, tugging me against him as the music guides his rhythm.
Couldn’t stay away? That’s why I don’t mess with virgins,
he says with that cheeky smile in place.
Why?
I manage to ask, wondering why in the hell I’m desperate to do something that had my skin crawling when I walked in.
His glowing blue eyes darken fractionally, and his look... He could stop the world from turning with that look. I’m fairly sure my entire body is burning up from the inside because of the intensity of his gaze. My head is tilted back, because he’s so tall that I can’t see his face without doing so. And I feel like he’s completely possessing my body with his movements, controlling me without trying.
You’ll start comparing everyone to me if I give you what you want.
He cups my chin with one hand while keeping his other hand at the small of my back. You’ll seek that same feeling. You’ll be like a drug addict searching for that first high once again. But you won’t find it.
I narrow my eyes on him. So you’re saying no because you’re so full of yourself that you think a night with you will make me a junkie?
He smirks, still studying me. I should be recoiling, but I can’t seem to make myself walk away.
I’m saying no because one night with me would ruin you.
He acts as though we’re talking about sex. I was just... What the hell am I doing? Am I really begging him to bite me? Oh, it sounds ridiculous even in my mind.
Apparently sanity has been eclipsed by sick desire. I blame the heady, confusing atmosphere in this place. It’s toxic or something.
This is a one-way ticket to group therapy. Hi, my name is Leah, and I’ve recently discovered that I’m insane because I begged a fake vampire to suck real blood out of my neck after knowing him for five minutes.
Yep. I’ve joined the crazy train. Time to hop off before I cross the line of insanity.
Deciding not to admit how corrupted my mind has gotten in such a minimal amount of time, I cock an eyebrow, feigning boredom now.
Egos aren’t my thing. I’ll let you find someone else to stroke yours for you. No offense, but you’re not as great as you think you are.
His lips twitch, but my breath catches in my throat when he tugs me closer, still moving me to the music. My arms dangle loosely at my sides, and my eyes stay locked with his. I’m going to have one hell of a crick in my neck.
"You have no idea how great I am. I’m trying to do you a favor, and you’re getting pissed. Seeing all the anger in your eyes from my rejection is stroking my ego just fine."
Of all the arrogant, narcisstic—
But you really should go,
he says, cutting my thoughts off when he leans down and flicks his tongue against my neck.
Swallowing, breathing, and thinking all become a little harder to do. I guess I’m not even hearing him correctly, because I swear he said I should go, but he’s holding onto me like he won’t let me leave.
It’s times like these that I wish those thought bubbles actually would appear over someone’s head, because I honestly don’t know what he just said. Not that I could see a thought bubble, since my eyes are closed and I’m melting against him like he owns me.
You smell so good,
he whispers across my neck.
His teeth rake across my skin, and he sucks a spot on my neck that has me moaning.
So, so good. Too good.
His hand slides down to my ass, squeezing, and I shudder against him as my body goes into violent, almost desperate, unexplainable need. I could very easily own every inch of you.
Prove it,
I whisper hoarsely. It’s like I hear myself, but I have no control over what comes out of my mouth or how I’m even behaving.
"I could. I could prove it for a very, very long time. Don’t tempt me. Guys like me... We really love owning things."
Possessiveness... I hate that so much. So why am I hoping he shows me how good it could be?
You keep talking instead of acting,
I taunt, arching into him more as my eyes roll back in my head. Every touch feels so intense, as though he’s coiling around me and dipping inside.
All of you,
he whispers, even though it doesn’t make any sense at all. For as long as I wanted.
Almost instantly, I’m staggering forward, bumping into something, and my eyes dart open as a cold, bereft sensation creeps into my veins. A guy with very impressive fake fangs hisses at me, and I stumble back, bumping into someone else as I look around. Where did Zee go?
Things are a little blurry, but it doesn’t take long to realize he’s gone.
My head almost feels like there’s a cold fire going on inside it, and my heart is beating so fast that it can possibly be heard. It’s a dizzying, lingering effect that has me blinking rapidly and staggering toward the door.
Whoa! What happened?
Marilyn asks, grabbing me from the side when I almost fall.
I don’t want to tell her that my body is still humming and craving for the touch I just lost, because it sounds so insane.
I think I had too much to drink,
I lie, even though the slurred words help me sound convincing.
Maybe I did drink too much, because I sure as hell feel drunk.
Chapter 2
ZEE
Running to catch up with Josh, I glance over my shoulder, feeling eyes on me. I almost fucking fall when I see who is watching me.
I don’t know her name. I don’t know where she came from. All I know is she’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.
Long, black hair is wavy, touching her sides as she takes a drink from a bottle being handed to her. She’s hanging out with a group of random people in the parking lot.
Josh whistles low when he sees what I’m staring at, and the mystery girl winks at me.
My plans for the night just changed.
Zee, man, we might fight over this one,
Josh warns through a chuckle.
The sex pistol is wearing the tightest jeans I’ve ever seen, and a shirt that shows off her midriff. She’s not looking at Josh. No. Those eyes are solely trained on me.
May the best man win,
I say confidently, making my way toward her.
Her blood... Her scent... Her body...
The last time I was tempted by anyone, I was turned into a monster.
This can only end in disaster.
I’ve been free from craving the bite for so damn long. I’ve been in control for over a decade. It hasn’t controlled me.
But her... I almost did it, and I wouldn’t have stopped until I had taken all she could offer and screamed my name.
Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but I refuse to fall prey to the fucking need to bite again. I control when and who. Not the monster inside me.
The part that freaks me out the most is what else I considered doing.
Voices break through my concentration, and I step back into the shadows just as the embodiment of my loss-of-control comes into sight.
You sure you’re okay?
the writer asks. I think Dice said her name was Marilyn. He warned me about her before he finally let her into my club to appease her curiosity and quit drawing so much attention to us.
She can write her book, because I know she won’t mention this place by name. He did his homework on her.
Positive,
my temptress says. Just too much to drink.
She staggers, and I inwardly curse. I had her under my thrall, reeling her in. I’ve never been too good with the night stalker perks because of my weaker sire bloodline, but since Gavin turned me into an even bigger freak... Everything about me is stronger.
Including the feral instincts I thought I had under control.
I can hear her pulse from here, and her blood is practically singing to me. It’s been getting harder and harder to ignore my urges, but never this hard. And I’ve never once felt tempted to do what I want to do right now.
The Pine Shore Inn,
I hear her tell the cab driver as the writer helps her into the car, and I watch her like I’m watching my prey.
Why did I have to hear where she’s staying?
Groaning, I turn and walk into the alley beside the liquor store that conceals the underground club, feeling the vibrations of the music beat lightly against my feet.
You need to do something about that before it’s too late.
The unknown, feminine voice has me whirling around, making everything in me instantly go on alert.
My eyes settle on a familiar face, but it takes a second to remember where I’ve seen her. Why the fuck is she coming to see me?
Excuse me?
I ask, playing dumb, wondering if she knows I know who she is.
She slowly walks toward me, seeming timid and unsure of herself as she peeks up from under her dark lashes. Her hair is up in some extravagant, complicated design, and her solid black dress looks like it’s straight out of the nineteenth century.
She notices my quizzical look, and a nervous laugh escapes her.
I guess I look ridiculous, huh?
she muses, seeming a touch less timid.
Wondering if you’ve figured out how to time travel,
I reply dryly.
She laughs, but I don’t even so much as smile. Why is she here?
The Manley Manor had a themed ball tonight.
I cross my arms over my chest and study her, waiting on her to end this charade.
And you just chase down random strangers in the street this late after going to a ball?
Deciding to press things farther, I let my eyes slowly crawl to their brightest blue. Shouldn’t do that. I could be dangerous.
Fire lights her eyes, and she takes a step toward me. Believe me, Zee. I know exactly how dangerous you are.
So she admits to knowing me, but I don’t know if she’s baiting me for information on her. Well, I did know. Until Gavin got ahold of you. Now I don’t think even you realize how dangerous you are.
Her eyes flit to the marks on my arms that feel alive, constantly thrumming through my veins with power.
How do you know Gavin and what he did to me?
I ask, deciding to play dumb.
She takes a cautious step toward me, and I hold my ground as she reaches out and slowly traces the lines of ink on my arm. She’s full-blooded witch, yet I have no desire to taste her blood. I couldn’t even get the name of my temptress because I was so caught up in her scent.
That’s a good thing. It means I haven’t really lost my control. I just have some weaknesses.
You feel your control slipping,
she announces, ignoring my question and possibly reading my mind.
Didn’t know witches could do that.
These marks,
she goes on, still tracing the lines with her fingers, are Gavin’s. I know them well. We spent a lot of years being close.
I notice the look in her eyes and how slowly she’s dragging her touch across me. She’s trying to seduce me?
Wrong place. Wrong night. Wrong fucking guy.
Playing her game, I remain quiet, letting her take her time and draw out her touch however she feels like it.
Most days you’re probably fine. The days when you use your magic the most, you feel hungrier than usual. Magic wasn’t meant for night stalkers. I don’t suppose you’ve sired anyone, have you?
Probing for answers? Really?
I don’t suppose you expect me to answer questions when you don’t.
Her lips play with
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