Blood Lust: A Dark Vampire Mafia

Romance (Guns vs Fangs Book 1) Aj

Wolf & Salem Sinclair
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 Blood Lust: Gun vs Fangs Prequel
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table of contents
Copyright
Author Note
Content Warning
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Blood Feud
More From Salem
More From AJ
About The Authors
 author note

Please note that some of the characters in this series speak in a thick Irish accent and so, misspellings
or abbreviations of words throughout are intentional to help reflect that.
 cONTENT wARNING

Non-con due to vampire pheromones

blood loss resulting in death
kidnapping
sexism
violence
sexual intercourse between main character and outside character prior to relationship
fighting scenes
graphic blood lust.

Please read at your own discretion

 Ottavia

chapter one

I n New York City, night always began with a scream.

A siren wailed in the distance, a sad and mournful sound that signaled the end of the day. Humans,
if they were smart, were locking themselves indoors as the sun slid behind the glittering
skyscrapers of the city skyline. After sundown, the Abhartach reigned supreme.
The Abhartach were blood-sucking monsters. Vampiric beasts that were equally hated and adored
by humans. According to the news, there was a tentative peace between mortals and vampires. But in
the streets, peace didn’t exist. It was kill or be killed; eat, or be eaten.
Out there, I knew there were whole groups of people that worshiped the Abhartach like gods. I
knew that they willingly gave themselves over to the bloodsuckers as blood bags, and part of me was
grateful for them, even if the thought turned my stomach. Because the more willing donors there were
meant less vampires prowling the streets in my father’s territory.
I paused in getting dressed in my workout gear and walked to my balcony doors, placing a hand
against the chilly glass as I peered outside. I wanted to watch the day fade into night, but that was a
luxury no longer afforded to me. Rain sluiced down the panes in gray sheets, further obscuring my
view more than the iron bars across the doors already did.
The bars were a new addition. My brow furrowed in annoyance.
My father, Mattia La Rosa, was the current Don of the La Rosa Mafia in the northern half of New
York City. Under his thumb, humans and vampires alike were held to the strictest of rules as growing
unrest broiled even higher between the living and undead. He enacted the nightly curfew to keep
humans safe from ghouls—half-demonic creatures that never fully transitioned into vampires.
Becoming a vampire was a lengthy and difficult process that took multiple nights of swapping
blood, not just a simple bite like the movies made you believe. When a human didn’t complete the
transition, they risked becoming a ghoul. As the strongest—and supposedly the oldest—Abhartach in
the US, Eoin Ó Ceallaigh oversaw keeping the ghouls’ numbers under control.
Just thinking about the monster put a sneer on my face.
He was the reason behind the gilded cage my father carefully crafted for me. Anger burned in my belly and I clenched my hands into
tight fists.
My great-grandfather had been wholly dedicated toward crafting a peace treaty with the Irish
vampire when he first took charge of the La Rosa Mafia back in 1940. He had wanted to unite the
north and south sides, wanted to have them stand as a united front against outside threats. But instead,
when they met at their agreed-upon spot in the neutral lands of the Wastes, Eoin had allowed feral
ghouls to nearly attack my great-grandfather, who barely escaped with his life but learned an
important lesson that day: never, ever put your trust in an Abhartach.
Since then, my family had been at war with the vampires and the Irish mobster, Eoin Ó Ceallaigh.
 Ottavia

chapter Two

L eft jab.
Right jab.
Left jab
Sweat dripped down my temples, trailing over my face and falling from my chin as my right fist
arced through the air and connected with the heavy weight of the punching bag before me. My
shoulder blades burned from overuse as I shook my arms out, curling and uncurling my fingers to
mitigate the pain. Blood stained the leather of the bag, and I knew that when I took the wraps off my
hands tonight, I’d see fresh cracks in the scars and scabs scattered across the pale skin of my
knuckles.
I licked my lips, tasing the salt of my sweat. I grasped the swinging bag, halting its movements,
and leaned my sticky forehead against it, panting. Inhaling deeply, I held my breath until the count of
three before releasing it slowly, willing my galloping heart to slow to a moderate pace. My biceps
were trembling as I hugged the sand-filled bag and I relished the ache. There was something deeply
satisfying about pushing your body to and beyond its limits.
Persevering through the physical limits of my body was something I did on a regular basis—I
didn’t have a choice; I lived in a man’s world. If I wanted to succeed in my dream of someday
becoming the Don of the La Rosa Mafia, I needed to be the best; needed to be able to beat the best,
which meant not only being business savvy and smart, but being brutal with my mind and my body. I
needed to be able to hold my own in the streets, against humans and monsters alike.
I was built like my late mother—gods rest her soul—with large curves and deep dips that grew larger with activity rather than
shrinking. As one of the very few women on the property, my body earned me lascivious looks from numerous men in my father’s keep.
Of course, they hid the longing glances from the La Rosa Don, as my father and brother would not take kindly to any of the men eyeing
their piccolina—their little one—but I was hoping to eventually use their lust against them. All men, no matter if they were human or
beast, had one simple weakness: their dicks.
Lust frequently overrode their better judgment, and I knew, better than most, how very little men in
positions of power thought of women. We were little more than trophies created to sit on their laps.
No one expected me to vie for the position of Don. No one, not even my father, knew of my true goal.
Because of my father's controlling nature, very few of his men were allowed to associate with me, as I was kept under lock and key,
like a princess trapped in her tower. He truly thought he was doing what was best for me, but I felt like a panther, stalking from one end
of my cage to the next. The east wing of the La Rosa mansion was for famiglia business, while the west was for me. I roamed freely
within my wing, under the watchful eagle eye of the cameras.
I grew up with a personal guard and he currently stood at the entrance of the gym, body tense and
poised to strike at any moment. I rolled my eyes at his back.
"Luca, take a breather. We are underground. Eoin and his cronies would quite literally have to
bomb us before he reached me," I said as I let go of the punching bag and walked toward my gym tote.
Bending down, I unzipped it and dug through it until I could nab my water. Condensation beaded the
exterior, cool and moist against my palm as I gripped the metal bottle and gulped down the blessedly
cold drink. I drank so quickly, some of the water escaped my lips and dribbled down my chin and
landed on my heaving chest in chilling droplets.
At my words, Luca had turned and glanced at me, but his cornflower blue eyes never strayed from
my face. He also did not comment beyond a raised brow, because he knew as well as I did that if he
took me at my word and relaxed and something happened to me, death would be the easy way out for
him.
My father, as gracious as he was to me, was not a kind man.
Alessandro, my personal trainer, whom I suspected was Luca’s current lover going by the weird,
nervy tension and longing glances between the two, was currently racking weights on the bench press
for me. I continued to gulp down water as I watched the two men eye each other in the wall of
mirrors, my racing thoughts tripping over themselves as they pinged from one subject to another.
Despite—or perhaps because of—my father's protective nature, he ensured that I was well-trained
for survival. He regularly brought in specialists for my training, ranging from Muay Thai and mixed
martial arts, to combat training and improvised weapons. He wanted me to be prepared in case the
world went to hell in a handbasket.
I was grateful for the training, because it gave me an edge against most of my opponents.
Alessandro patted the bench press and I dropped my water bottle into my bag before jogging over
to him and settling on it. My back was sweaty above the straps of my bra and stuck unpleasantly to the
plastic material of the bench, and I readjusted my back as my fingers gripped the metal bar.
“Ready?” Alessandro asked as he peered down at me. His dark, kind eyes were framed by long lashes and I had the same recurring
thought. How did you end up here? It was odd to me that a man seemingly so kind would be anywhere near the famiglia. But whether
he was paying off a debt to my father by service or choosing to be here was none of my business, so I just nodded to him and kept my
thoughts to myself.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I pressed my feet firmly into the mat of the gym floor, grunting
with the effort it took to raise the barbell with its numerous added weights. My arms and core burned
with strain as I did my reps, Alessandro counting me through them as I zoned out and focused on
keeping my breathing steady and not arching my back. After bringing the bar back to its resting place,
I let my arms collapse and fold across my belly.
“Holy shit,” I mumbled, muscles feeling like jelly. I saw Alessandro’s lips move, like he was
about to say something, when Luca suddenly called my name, his tone urgent. His hand was pressed
up to his right ear, where I knew his communications device sat so he could stay connected to every
other guard within the compound.
I sat up slowly, unease growing within me, and glanced at the blond man. “What’s happened?”
His words created a pit in my stomach.
“It’s your brother.”
 Eoin

chapter Three

M y nostrils stung with the cloying scents of smoke, blood, and sex as I stepped inside the dark
interior of Invictus. Scantily-clad women danced inside of cages that hung by thick chains from
the ceilings, encased in iron bars that doubled as a safe space from the prying hands below and
added to the grotesque wood and stone decor throughout. Others swung and twirled around silver
poles, pieces of clothing littered haphazardly around their chunky heels as they danced for the men
that salivated up at them. Surrounding them were a mass of bodies that swayed and touched in the
strobing lights.
Anyone not living would have sensed me coming before I had entered the door, and as I moved
through the crowd, it instinctively parted for me, my presence weighing heavy like musk inside of the
building. I watched as one of the caged dancers bit her wrist. Dark blood pooled and dribbled down
her pale flesh, trickled over the hard metal lip of her confines and dripped down to tease the men
below. With curled lips and snapping fangs, they scrambled to lick it up, fighting like rabid dogs for a
mere taste. The sound of my feet was silenced by the surrounding noise as I climbed the metal rungs
toward the upper floor, the distinctive notes of moans and grunts barely audible over the music that
blared from the speakers.
To my left a mortal woman was spread over the top of a table with her tits pulled out from her shirt, a man suckling at a breast with
blood leaking from the corner of his lips. A bottle of beer tumbled to the floor as another man latched onto her exposed thigh, the drink all
but forgotten as she writhed beneath them with pure ecstasy. She was one of the many donors that we got at Invictus. The promise of a
high paycheck paired with the thrill of feeding attracted mortals to the club nightly, although it didn’t come without risks. Not every
Abhartach had the willpower to stop, especially the young ones. Not to mention mortals could become addicted to the aphrodisiacs of
feeding and simply offer too much. It was a policy at Invictus that donors were only allowed to donate up to three times a week with
ample downtime between each session to help reduce the likelihood of addiction.
Even so, it wasn’t uncommon to see mortals on their hands and knees begging to be bled dry.
The door of my private room was opened before I reached it by the guard on post, his head
lowered in respect as I stepped through the threshold. Running my tongue over the pointed edges of
my teeth, I eyed the pair of women waiting for me, the noise of the club muted as the door clicked shut
at my back. If I had it my way, as it used to be, I would be hunting down my meal for the night, rutting
in her like the feral beast I kept contained craved to, before leaving her gaping and dry on the
cobblestone to be found by morning. But alas, times have changed and so have the general rules of
society.
Hence the donors that trembled before me.
Two heartbeats thumped in tandem in my ears, like the bass of a drum reaching the encore, they
rose with each step I took closer to the mortals lying on the bed. Their shallow breaths whispered in
the space, the smell of their warm skin begging for me to break the flesh.
Undoing the cuff links on my shirt, my eyes lingered on the red-haired woman. “Ye ’ave donated
before?”
The blonde spoke up at my question, her baby blue gaze flickered over each new inch of exposed
skin that was revealed as I unbuttoned my shirt. “We have—” She met the redhead’s eyes a moment
before her attention was turned back on me and my shirt falling to the floor. “We are usually just here
to dance, though.”
“Dancers, eh?” Their pulses raced, prancing below their ribs and thumping in their throats faster, faster, faster with each step I took.
The blonde nodded, a wordless answer to my question. My fingers hooked around a glass of liquor that waited for me on a side table,
dropping with it into my seat. “Show me how ye dance t’en.”
Both of them rose from the bed, their bodies tentatively swaying together with the beat of
inaudible music as I sipped at my drink, watching. My eyes caught on the redhead once more, snagged
on the way her hand trembled as it ran through her long hair. The soft smell of their sweat rose to
mingle with their fear as they moved, their dancing becoming bolder with every few minutes that
passed.
Anticipation melded with the tension that clung to the air, the small gesture of my fingers
beckoning them to come nearer to me. “C’mere.”
They separated, moving wordlessly as they acted on my command. I set my drink off to the side
and pulled the redhead into my lap as the blonde stepped behind my chair, running her hands along my
shoulders and down my arms. Knees sunk into the cushions as they straddled my waist, the gentle
scratch of lace from the redhead’s lingerie gliding on my skin as she leaned in close, her body
instinctively attracted to mine despite her fear. Their senses flooded with my pheromones this close.
My fingers pinched into her skin as they ran up her thighs, and my mouth watered as her blood
rushed just below her skin, so near to my lips. Her breath hitched as I drew her closer, feeling the
heat of my breath on her flesh. My tongue swiped out to lick a path from her shoulder to her jaw, a
groan leaving my chest at the rush of blood I could almost taste already below my lips. My mouth
ticked at the corner at her shaky exhale, the sweet salt of her skin urging me to taste her more fully.
Not to be forgotten, the blonde at my back continued to stroke her fingers over my arms and back,
her breaths panting in my ear as she watched my teeth graze the other woman’s neck. I could already
smell their arousal, the heady scent heavy on my tongue as it tried to coax my own. Without wasting
another second, my teeth sunk into her soft flesh, coppery metallic warmth pooling in my mouth as I
took a long, sharp drag. A moan of greedy satisfaction arose, muffled, from my chest, and a small
amount of blood leaked from the corner of my mouth as I adjusted, my hand fisted in red locks to keep
the woman in my lap in place. Her body shook against mine, small whimpers morphed to soft pants as
the initial shock of pain quickly numbed away to pure unfiltered pleasure.
High on her lust and my bite, her hips began to shift in my lap, the front of my pants quickly soaked
with the wetness from her pussy drenching through her panties. Fingernails dug into my shoulders,
reminding me I had another waiting for my affection. I ignored the breathy whine as I removed my
mouth from her skin. Standing with her thighs gripping around my waist, her hips continued to thrust
against my abdomen.
My eyes found the blonde’s, the sound of her heart pounded loud in my ears as she watched me
with blown pupils. “Fret na, love. Ye won’t be left out.
 She followed close behind as I moved us all toward the bed. My hands pushed the redhead back
onto the pillowy surface, her hair fanned out around her as I grabbed onto the blonde, roughly guiding
her between the other woman’s thighs. My lips found the blonde’s skin while my hands grabbed at her
tits and ripped them from the molded cups of her lacey bra to tug at her rosy pink nipples with my
fingers. I relished the breathy way her gasp left her lungs, my gaze heavy on the redhead begging for
attention below us.
My mouth found the junction of her shoulder and neck, wet kisses marring her skin. “Beautiful,
ain’t it? Seein’ ’er beggin’ ta be touched.” My hand wrapped around the blonde’s hair, tugging her
neck to the side so I could run my teeth along her pulse point. “Don’ leave ’er hangin’ now, love. Be a
good girl and put yer sweet little cunt on ’ers.”
She was moving before the words had even finished leaving my mouth, both of them frantic as
they tugged their panties off and scrambled to press their greedy cunts together. I gripped my dick
through my pants as I watched them start to grind together, their loud moans ringing in my ears as I
tried to feel the same pleasure they were. I gave up with an annoyed grunt and a semi-hard dick, the
wet sloppy sounds of their pussies spurring me to move forward and latch onto the blonde’s neck to
feed instead. She cried out, a mixture of pleasure and pain, before she was back to mindlessly
humping. Her hands gripped the redhead’s thighs, both of their hearts thumping erratically, loud and
unhinged.
My hand tangled in the blonde’s hair again, holding her neck in place as I fed. It had been years since I had been able to fuck and
feed with such abandoned passion as I once had. More often than not, I fed without even getting hard. I could, if I really put some
thought into it, but then again, what was the point? Although I still fucked often, it wasn’t the same as when bleeding a whore.
Their cries had grown louder, both of them close to an orgasm, and I pulled my teeth from the
blonde, grabbing onto the redhead's hand to bite her wrist instead. She bellowed at the contact, more
pleasure pulsing through her veins, causing her hips to shift with new vigor. Her blood was sweet on
my tongue as they came in unison, blood smeared between them as I let go, their wounds taking a
moment to seal over as they crashed into one another in a blissful pile.
With a sigh, I pushed up off the bed and returned to my drink, full of their blood but only partially satisfied. The ice tinkled in my glass
as I raised it to my lips, eyes watching the pair slowly rise from the bed and smile at me.
The blonde licked her lips, her hands gliding along her body, groping herself for me, both of them
still heavily intoxicated by the pheromones in my bite. “You aren’t full yet, are you?”
My eyes tracked the redhead as she languidly slid from the edge of the bed, her bare feet gliding
along the floor until she stood just before me. My brow raised at her sudden boldness as she grasped
the edge of my glass with her fingers and lightly pulled it away, setting it back down on the table
beside me.
Her blown eyes peered up at me, the bite marks on her neck framed by little dark bruises and dried blood. Her warm palms met my
bare chest, and her fingernails dug into the flesh as she leaned into me, lips parted with need. “Take more, please.” Her neck arched
with the sweet, pleaded word, offering herself to me.
I chuckled, my breath ghosting over her skin as I ran a single finger over her marks, her body shuddering with pleasure. “Greedy,
fraochÚn.”
A flash of blonde hit my peripheral vision before a pair of hands landed on me, and the other woman gripping onto my arm pressed
tight against my body, just as needy as the one before me. “No, use me. Take from me.”
My fangs ached to pierce their flesh with their begging, and my sad dick gave a half-hearted jump. We used to love a good round of
begging. My tongue came out to wet my lips, fang catching on my lip as I smiled down at her. “Since ye asked so nicely—”
The door to my room slammed open, the blast of the club’s music loud and jarring. My sentence
died on my tongue, icy gaze snapping to the guard who dared to disturb me.
He fell to his knees, the women around me instinctively cowering away from me and the roil of
anger crowding the space. “Ye ’ave a death wish, boy?”
“No, sir, my apologies, I just have news.” He didn’t dare look up, his voice trembling, “Important news, sir.”
 My teeth ground together. “Spit it out t’en.”
“There’s been an incident. Some of the ghouls escaped their confines.” He paused with an audible
swallow. “And it appears as if they’ve found a way into the city, sir.”
A loud sigh of disgust leaked through my nose. “Ye interrupted my supper for tha’?” I scoffed and
his eyes finally raised enough to see my gesture to rise. “Get up an’ take care o’ them, ye damn eejit.”
The guard scrambled to his feet, nodding fiercely. “Of course,” his eyes flicked nervously
between the girls before he grabbed the handle of the door, “my apologies.”
With the click of the door, I opened my arms, meeting both of the women’s eyes one by one,
enthralling them back into a calm state. “Na, where were we?”
 Ottavia

Chapter Four

M y brother was dead and Eoin Ó Ceallaigh was the cause.

It was his duty to keep the ghouls’ numbers under control, to keep them locked within the
concrete and electric barrier concealing the Wastes beyond the city, and he failed. Failed so
spectacularly that on an ordinary night, during what should have been a typical meeting with a dealer,
my brother was massacred.
Lupo, an older werewolf that was my father’s right-hand man and my fiancé, was now serving in my brother’s place. He worked
hard to keep the news of my brother’s death under wraps, so that only immediate famiglia knew, until we had our next plan of action.
A death in the main branch could be seen as a potential weakness by outsiders, and the last thing
we needed right now was a hostile invasion. Especially when a werewolf was so close to being in
charge of the La Rosa Mafia.
Relations between vamps and the wolves were notably volatile.
Vampires were created through an exchange of blood so their numbers continued to grow, whereas
werewolves were born. As their females continued to struggle to carry to term, their numbers
plummeted as the decades wore on. Within the last few hundred years, werewolves had sided with
humans in the escalating war against the vampires because what humans lacked in physical and
preternatural strength, we made up for in sheer volume.
The energy in the compound was tense and unsettled. Despite the attempt to keep my brother’s death buried, within hours everyone
knew something had gone down.
I, especially, was on edge.
Grief and hatred warred within me. Anger burned under my skin, roiling like magma under the
crust of the earth, seeking a crack. Lupo was trying to send me to my room as though I were a
disobedient child. Logically, I knew he was just trying to ensure my safety, but amid my grief it felt
like he was tossing me away.
“I do not have time to discuss this, Ottavia,” Lupo had said, warm palms caressing my bare shoulders. My father was with my
brother’s body as the famiglia mortician prepared it for burial.
I was still dressed in my sweaty workout gear—leggings and sports bra—and felt, for a moment,
horrifically underdressed and unprepared as I stared around the room at the men my father was
closest to. They all wore impeccable suits, except for Lupo, whose suit was dotted with blood from
where he had carried my brother’s body back to the compound.
 Despite his age, Lupo was handsome, with dark hair streaked with gray at his temples and honey-
brown eyes. I gazed up at him, meeting his stare and wanting him to understand why I wanted to stay
—why I wanted to help. “Please,” I started, my voice a mere whisper. But he didn’t even give me a
chance to finish my thoughts.
“I am sorry, Ottavia, for the loss of your brother. He was a great man. But there is much to be done
and I do not have time to deal with…” Lupo made a gesture toward me as a whole, as if I were just
an inconvenience to handle, to deal with, after the death of my brother.
Not his fiancée, not even the daughter of one of his most trusted friends. Just in the way.
Yes, our marriage was one of convenience, not emotion. It had made sense to solidify our
connection through an arranged marriage—the La Rosa family tying itself to the werewolves formally
—but I had assumed the position afforded me more respect than this. He had always treated me with
respect whenever I spoke with him, but I was just now realizing that I had only spoken with him in
front of my father. I wondered—belatedly, naively—if everyone in the room heard the shattering of
my rose-colored glasses or if only I could hear the raining of the shards.
“Luca, please take Miss La Rosa back to her rooms, so she can rest.” With a gentle shove, Lupo
pushed me in the direction of Luca, who grasped my shoulders. But at my guard’s touch, I started and
whipped around to face the werewolf once more.
“Lupo, I want to help. I need to help.” I wasn’t whispering anymore. My voice was nearly a yell. My hands were fisted at my sides.
Lupo’s face rearranged itself into careful neutrality, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch in
annoyance. “You’re obviously emotional, my dear. It’s a hard thing, losing a brother. Take the day to
cool down, then we can discuss further action. Let the men handle it today.”
Emotional? Emotional?! The condescending little—
My thoughts raced as my anger surged. I could feel heat flushing my face as shame burned through
me. I glanced at the other men in the room and saw the same haughty look in their eyes that had
surfaced in Lupo’s when I dared to speak up.
When men got angry, they were seen as scary, and powerful. When women got angry, they were
only seen as overly emotional.
But I just nodded at Lupo, refusing to let my thoughts register on my face. “You’re right,” I said
instead. “I do need my rest.”
I let Luca lead me back to my rooms, planning my escape, Eoin’s death, and Lupo’s downfall the
whole way.
 Eoin

chapter Five

T he guard’s head flopped forward onto his heaving chest, the coppery scent of the blood that
dripped from various cuts on his face caressing the air with bitter notes that melded with the hot
sparks of my annoyance. My fingers tangled in his mop of hair, yanking his face so that our gazes
met. “When ye came to my room with news, did ye not think ta mention just how many ghouls ’ad
escaped?”
At his silence, I shook his head, watching as he winced and more blood dripped from his crooked
nose.
“Did ye just forget ta tell me ’bout them bein’ in the La Rosa territory?” I shook his head once
more, lips pursing as his sputtered cough sprayed blood across my shoes.
Bruises covered his face, one of his eyes were swollen shut, and blood dribbled from his mouth
as he spoke. “I’m sorry, sir, I—I should have told you.”
I should have told you.
Fucking eejit.
His head snapped back with my uppercut, a few broken bits of teeth bouncing along the floor. As
soon as his head fell back to face me, I sent it sideways with a left hook. Straightening, I shook out my
hands as a loud breath blew out of my chest. “Yer insolence ’as killed the future Don.”
His eyes couldn’t widen even if they wanted to because of the beating he’d taken, but I could
imagine it as his head swung back and forth almost in disbelief. Pale hands rose, almost to placate
me, but I was already moving, my palms slamming to either side of his head, fingers fisted in his hair.
The loud, sputtered shriek that left his bloody lips was quickly ended when his head was yanked from
his neck with a loud, wet tear. More blood sprayed the front of my white dress shirt and slacks, warm
and thick as it stuck and dripped down my skin.
With an annoyed huff, I threw his head to the floor, my gaze snapping to my second-in-command,
Declan. One of my oldest companions, he had been by my side from day one, had seen me lose my
temper more than anyone, and was the only being that was permitted—and brave enough—to speak
his mind.
His lips were pursed, a brow arched with amusement as he coolly watched the guard’s head as it
rolled along the floor. “Are ye angry that he dinay tell ya ’bout the ghouls on La Rosa land or are ye
angry that ya ignored him an’ continued to feck around instead o’ takin’ care o’ them yerself like ya
should’ve—” His lips ticked at the look on my face as he continued to speak, his thick, accented
words tilted with humor. “Which would ’ave avoided this ol’ mess?”
“Get tha’ smile off ye face, ye feckin’ eejit.” I wiped the blood off my chin, shoving past Declan as
I moved toward the utility sink and stripped myself of my blood-ridden clothing.
He ignored my anger, a clean shirt and trousers smacking into my chest when I turned to face him
after washing off. Singling out the pants, I tugged them on as I watched him lean his hip against the
counter. The look on his face said he had more he wanted to say.
“Tha’ could bloody well be taken as an act o’ war. A real one.” Any previous humor he had regarding the situation was long gone
with the words.
I didn’t respond. Not right away, my jaw clenching as my arms slipped into my shirt, fingers deftly buttoning it up. He’s right. It is my
fault that Mattia La Rosa’s son was killed tonight. I eyed the guard’s headless body and rolled my cuffs up my arms. I had taken out the
anger I had with myself on the guard. I was not overly worried about Mattia and his pound puppies. If I bloody wanted, I was positive I
could eradicate them all. My numbers far surpassed theirs, especially if you counted the ghouls, but even I could admit that a city—a
world—with ghouls running rampant would be displeasing even for me.
Although, I had always thrived in the chaos of full-on war. My best centuries were spent ripping the throats out of my enemies and
driving my sword through the bellies of the mangy pups who liked to pretend they were more human than wolf.
Pathetic mutts.
“Could be,” I finally said. My hands ran through my long hair, fingers combing through a few
clumped curls, sticky with small droplets of blood.
A knock pounded on the door and both of our attentions moved to the guard who stepped inside,
his nose flaring slightly at the stench of blood that still filled the room. His gaze never wavered from
mine despite the itch I knew he had to look at the dismemberment before him.
“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but one of the men on patrol said that Ottavia La Rosa has been spotted
sneaking into Invictus.” His throat bobbed with his hard swallow, waiting for my reply.
My eyes flicked to Declan, his raised brow saying more than any words could.
Now, what could Mattia’s daughter possibly be doing on my land mere hours after her brother’s
death?
Whatever her reasoning, I’d be sure to find out for myself.
“What, uh, what should we do about it, sir?”
Attention drawn back to the guard, I smiled, a toothy, crooked grin that made him shift
uncomfortably on his booted feet. “She’s ta be left alone.” My cold, dead heart nearly thumped back
to life with something akin to excitement, my interest fully piqued with the latest turn of events. “Na’ a
single ’air on her head ta be touched by anyone ba’ me.”
 Ottavia

Chapter Six

K illing had always been easy.

As I carved my lips out with dark liner, I let the knowledge that I was going to kill again flow
through my veins. It ran through me like a cold rain—numbing me out, shutting down the parts of
me that felt anything, and leaving behind a cool detachment.
I had taken my first non-human life at nineteen and now, nearing thirty, I had nearly a dozen vampire kills under my belt. I wasn’t a
professional hunter by any means, but I was an experienced killer, and most importantly, I had the element of surprise on my side.
The Ó Ceallaigh Abhartach had never met me.
I could easily slip inside that well-known club of his, Invictus, under the guise as a willing donor
and, when the animal tried to draw blood from me, I would stake him in his monstrous heart.
I felt a sudden wave of gratefulness for the press releases my father had forced me to watch of Ó
Ceallaigh. if I hadn’t, I would have no idea what he looked like and this opportunity would be
wasted. As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, taking in my calm countenance, I realized I was
fully aware that I would likely be exiting Invictus in a body bag tonight.
But that was okay if it meant I took down the Abhartach king with me.

With all the commotion in the compound, sneaking beyond the walls of the La Rosa mansion was
easier than I had anticipated. Luca had been regulated to outdoor guard duty for a few hours while my
father and numerous guards traveled with my brother’s body back from the morgue. And as much as I
would miss Luca’s company, this could not have happened at a more opportune time. It was so
fortuitous it nearly made me suspicious, but my anger overrode caution and my better judgment.
I sauntered through Invictus, permitting the heeled boots that slicked up to my thighs to do the
work, allowing my hips to roll naturally with each step. The strobing lights caught and sparked off the
glittering flecks on my fishnet tights and the shiny material of my vinyl bodysuit reflected in arcing
rainbows. The bodysuit sat high on my wide hips, showing off my thick thighs and the robust curve of
my ass. I had the front zipper pulled down to a concerning degree, where my voluptuous breasts
nearly spilled out from the tight material. I had my long, dark hair pulled back into a sleek, high
ponytail so that my neck was exposed, and my pale skin nearly glowed under the lights, appetizing to
those with and without fangs.
My eyes were half lidded with early satisfaction of my planned kill, and I knew it made me
appear drowsy with arousal.
Letting the beat drip through my veins and the bass reverberate against my bones, I rolled my hips
to the rhythm of the dreamy, drum-heavy music. Bodies pulsed against me. Chests and hips flowed
through my hands, mouths pressed against mine and disappeared again just as quickly. It was a roiling
mass of people, all high on adrenaline and music, some drunk on vamp pheromones and alcohol, but
each of us lost in the moment.
Even the cause of my anger was difficult to grasp when I was drowning in the pulsating rush of
bodies.
But just as the music changed, the beat dropping to something sinuous as the singer sang about
infidelity, I spotted him. Eoin Ó Ceallaigh.
The Abhartach was a level above me, coming in and out of sight in between the strobing lights. He
stood alone, above the swaying masses, a king surveying his peasants from his tower. I couldn’t make
out his expression from this far away but I knew it was him.
And I knew he was looking at me.
His stare was brutally piercing, primal. The lizard part of my brain was waking up, shouting at me
to run because something deadlier, something far more terrifying than me, was sizing me up, and it
found me lacking. Terror froze my body for a moment and I was suddenly jostled in the sea of bodies
rather than flowing with it. The movement jolted me back to reality and I realized that the bastard had
enthralled me, that easily, with his gaze.
Motherfucker.
I slowly began dancing once more, weaving my way toward the metal stairs. I kept my gaze on
Eoin, so I didn’t lose track of him. This time, I was sure to keep my eyes below his face so he
couldn’t enthrall me again.
He wore a white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone and showing a tantalizing vee of dark
skin. His arms were draped over the railing, and thanks to the folded-back sleeves, I could see the
muscles in his forearms rolling as he rotated the glass tumbler dangling between his fingers with
careless ease. As I ascended the staircase, he brought the glass to his mouth and drank the rest of the
golden liquid before handing it to a random server that happened to be walking by.
With every step that brought me closer to him, I felt the hard press of the stakes I’d hidden on
myself. A thin one within my ponytail, and the second between my breasts and trailing down my
sternum. I couldn’t sit down comfortably, but at least I had two deadly weapons on my person. They
had confiscated my knives at the door—as expected and planned—but the guards hadn’t patted down
my hair, nor had they found the second stake behind my zipper.
Finally, I reached the landing above the stairs and turned toward the man I would be killing
tonight.
Eoin Ó Ceallaigh was a handsome bastard, even if he was a monster.
Long, dark strands of hair framed a jaw so chiseled it could be carved from stone. Oddly, stubble
lined his chin and I filed that away for later, because I hadn’t known vampires could grow facial hair.
I focused on his nose rather than his eyes, but I knew from the television that they were bottle green,
and mesmerizing.
 It was unnerving that he could likely hear the pounding of my pulse. I just prayed he assumed it
was the typical anxiety of meeting an attractive person or, hell, of prey meeting a predator rather than
the true reason—adrenaline rushing through my veins as my body readied itself to attack.
The Abhartach held out a hand, palm up, and I nearly glanced up at his eyes but reminded myself
at the last moment and kept my gaze on his just below. A dimple dotted his right cheek as I placed my
hand in his. His fingers were surprisingly warm against mine, which meant he had already fed at least
once tonight.
“Smart for a wee lamb, aren’t ye?” His voice was deep and heavily accented, the Irish brogue
thick.
“Not smart enough to avoid this place,” I replied, the truth laying heavy on my tongue as I spoke
the words.
“True enough,” was his simple reply as his grip tightened around my hand. The party raged on
around us as he led us to a door. It opened before we reached it and a man bowed deeply as we
stepped inside.
The door closed shut quietly behind us, but it was as loud as the final nail in the coffin in my head.
 Eoin

Chapter Seven
O ttavia’s pulse pounded in my ears, each hard thump growing faster the farther we got into my office. Thud, thud, thud. It hadn’t
escaped my notice that she’d been actively avoiding locking eyes with me since the moment on the dance floor. Although I’d known
who Ottavia was for quite some time, seeing her in person was an—experience. Paparazzi-style pictures taken by my men certainly
didn’t do her curves any justice.
My fingers slipped from hers, putting space between us as I moved across the room to pour her a drink. Her head swiveled the
moment my back was turned, not realizing I could see her in the mirror. Perhaps she was looking for something to stab me with, I
thought with amusement, studying her a moment. The long shiny tail of her hair swung lightly on her back with her investigation and my
fingers itched to turn around and snatch it in my palm, to wrap the undoubtedly silky strands around my fist. Clearing my throat, her eyes
snapped to the mirror, quickly flicking down to my chin.
“I’m surprised to see you have a reflection.” she noted. The husky notes of her voice held a false
bravado to hide the nervous vibration in her chest.
I hummed, turning with a tumbler of brandy in hand. Contrary to old-school movie beliefs, Abhartachs such as myself did have a
reflection. Where the myth started, I couldn’t say, but it was always one that I found mildly humorous. I held the drink out to her, the soft
brush of her fingers against mine as she took it.
“Aye. We can’t ’ave garlic ’ither. Allergic ta tha’ stuff.” Her lips tilted slightly at my joking, but it
wasn’t genuine. She was here for a reason, one I had yet to figure out.
Her full, dark-painted lips sipped at her drink, her eyes flickering around the room to look at anything but me. I took the moment to
shamelessly look her over. Here under the lights of my office there was a lot more to see. And appreciate. The dark vinyl bodysuit she
wore conformed to her voluptuous body in the most delicious sort of way. The shiny material was cut low, the generous curve of her tits
trembled with every quiet, shaking breath she took. A zipper pulled down low emphasized the cut of her waist, accentuated the large
curve of her ass. Dark fishnets clung to the swell of her thighs.
Thighs that I wouldn’t mind having wrapped around my head.
I’d been with many women over the years, but something about this particular one intrigued me more than any had in a long while.
What was it they always said? The forbidden apple was the most delicious?
I’d never been good at remembering such things, but either way, I wanted to find out.
Ottavia’s shoulders stiffened once she noticed my appraisal, her long neck straightening, heart still
pounding away behind her ribs. Her lips pursed, slender fingers tightening around her glass as I
moved closer.
“Yer here ta donate, eh?” She swallowed audibly at my question, but quickly covered it with a
sultry smile I’m sure would have guiled any stupider man.
“Yes,” she answered almost breathily, the immediate narrowing of her eyes telling me she hadn’t
meant to.
 She stood her ground even as I inched closer, crowding her. If anything, she straightened even more, refusing to cower despite my
knowing her body wanted to. I liked that.
My hand rose to finger a lone piece of hair that laid on her shoulder, lightly flicking it back with
the rest. It remained on her warm skin as I spoke, “What’s yer name, love?”
Her carefully crafted composure faltered just a tad, long lashes fluttering as she internally scrambled for an answer. Would she lie? I
wondered, pressing myself even closer. The smell of her skin greeted me, warm and sweet like amber but with a hint of heady
champaca, deep and rich like the golden honey brown of her eyes. Despite that, my nose wrinkled at the very small but very distinct
stench of wet dog that lingered just above that.
Feckin’ werewolves.
Those golden irises of hers were glued to my lips. They tracked the path of my tongue as I wet
them, the tip grazing my pointed teeth. She looked away at that, and I noted the way her chest rose and
fell in short, shallow breaths, as if she were purposefully not breathing in too deep to avoid my
pheromones.
Clever little mortal.
“Does it matter?” she finally answered, deftly rounding out of my closing embrace and shifting herself away from me, our positions
nearly switched. Her hands rose to her body, a finger ran from her full, bottom lip, then dragged down the edge of her neck, slowly,
teasingly. Her voice dipped, grew huskier than before, more sultry as she fluttered her long lashes. “Why don’t we get started already?”
I chuckled. The sound grumbling from my chest in a way that did nothing to ease the stiffness she
tried to hide in her posture. I felt the smile that stretched over my teeth, flashing my fangs in all of
their full glory. “As ye wish, love.”
Her lips parted in a smile, one that looked nearly as sinister as the one on my face. A wise man
would have paused, knowing that any woman with a look like that on her face was up to no good.
But I’m no man.
And when my breath had grunted from my lungs, my eyes dropping to see her little hand wrapped around a wooden stake she had
embedded in my left shoulder, she was brutally aware of that fact. Her eyes went wide and I knew it was because she didn’t know how
she’d missed her mark. If I were any other common Abhartach, she would have mortally impaled me. But much to her dismay, I was still
alive and well, having seen her rip it from the front of her bodysuit, where it was smartly concealed in the confines of her large tits.
Little minx.
At my humored smile, she jerked back from me, watching with loud, shaking breaths as I yanked it
from my flesh and threw it so hard it impaled the wall. “Come now, love. Surely tha daughter o’
Mattia can do better t’an dat.”
The room filled with the scent of her fear, her heart pounding a million miles a second, so loud I
could mistake it for the music playing outside of the door. She looked shocked, like she didn’t expect
me to know who she was.
She insults my intelligence.
Stalking forward, far faster than she anticipated, I rushed her, my breath blowing the now loose
pieces of hair that fell around her face. “Let’s try tha’ again, eh?”
Her brow furrowed, anger melding with her fear as she scowled up at me, a wicked tilt to her
lips. “Let’s.”
 Ottavia

Chapter Eight

T hevampire rushed me, shoving into me with bruising force. Even as my body flew through the
air, I was reaching behind me to yank the second stake out of my ponytail. I landed on the desk
with a gasp of pain and in a scattering of items. I had the stake in my hand, ready to strike by the
time he was on me again. But it’s curving arc was halted before it connected with anything vital, and I
grunted against the crushing strength of Eoin’s fist wrapped around my wrist.
He yanked me up from the desk and shoved me against the wall, leaving me breathless, as he
slammed my hand into the hard plaster repeatedly until my fingers gave way and I dropped the stake,
where it rolled harmlessly on the ground.
“Let go!” I shouted, impotent and useless and scared, despite myself. I brought my other hand up to
grip his wrist and jerked against him, but no amount of tugging freed me. I even resorted to pinching
and clawing, which resulted in bloodying him, but Eoin’s grip just squeezed harder and I cried out
against the pain.
Oddly, the pain helped to steady me.
“Yer a feisty one, ain’t ye?” The vampire sounded amused rather than concerned, which pissed me
off. Blood from the first stake wound stained his shirt.
The anger ate through my fear, dissolving it. Suddenly I was awake again, and my body was alive, knowing what to do when under
attack. I dropped all of my weight to the floor while wrapping a leg around his, crushing the back of his knee in a move he wasn’t
expecting, and the sudden motion forced him off balance and made him topple forward. At the same time his forehead collided with the
wall, his grip loosened on my wrist, and I scuttled out from between his legs.
I knew I wouldn’t have time to turn around and stand up, so as I raced across the floor to the desk, desperate to get something in
between us for a moment, I was throwing any object at him that I could get my hands on. The office was clean, but when he had thrown
me onto his desk, items had scattered and I used them as projectiles now—scissors, pencils, a hole punch. Anything and everything that
could buy me half a second.
Finally, I scrambled behind the desk and allowed myself just a moment to breathe. And panic.
Because fuck, I was out of my league.
All of that training, all of those kills… and none of it helped.
None of it prepared me for the reality of the power held by a centuries-old vampire.
Clamping my eyes closed, I strained my ears, desperate for any sound. Beyond the rushing of
static in my ears and the panting of my breaths, the room was silent.
 But I knew he was there. Waiting. Stalking. Letting the anticipation of the hunt grow and my dread
build.
Both of my stakes were gone, flung somewhere in the room. I debated on removing the square heel
of my boot and utilizing it as a weapon, but figured it would do more damage when attached to my
kicking leg than if I attempted to punch with it.
When a hand suddenly gripped a fistful of my ponytail and yanked me backward, I let out a primal
scream. I hoped someone outside the office would hear me, but I knew it was useless.
Eoin Ó Ceallaigh answered to no one. He was a law unto himself.
The vampire tsked under his breath as he hauled me up onto his desk. He captured both of my
wrists in one hand behind my back and leaned forward against me, spreading my thighs wide with his
waist. I was off-balance and unsteady, but instead of allowing myself to rest against him, I reared
back and attempted to headbutt him. Eoin caught the edge of my ponytail in his free hand and knotted it
before jerking it, hard. The action sent a throbbing pain through the base of my skull.
“Yer like a—what’s tha’ thing?” Eoin said, amusement still heavy in his voice as he considered.
His head tilted this way and that. “Tha’ feisty li’l weasel. A badger? A mink? Whichever, yer one o’
them, an’ I like it.”
I had come to Invictus to kill Eoin, to exact revenge for my brother and yet the vampire saw me as
a mere pest? A tiny, cute creature?
A growl worked its way out of my chest and I thrust my body against him, thrashing in his hold. It was a useless move, but frustration
was overwhelming me and I had to do something beyond sitting there like a helpless lamb giving itself up to the slaughter.
“Och, now, pet. Settle down, settle down. ’ere now,” the Abhartach said as he rearranged my
body. He laid me down across the dark, wooden desk and knocked my thighs farther open with a
knee. I was wantonly spread before him and held in place by the hand fisted around both of my wrists.
He had them tucked behind the small of my back, so my tits were pushed out into his face, and he
dragged his nose along the swell of one breast.
I snarled out a nasty word.
“Ya kiss yer ’ather with tha’ mouth, lass?” Eoin’s words were muffled against my skin.
“Don’t you dare speak about my father, you bastard!” I growled in return, twisting my body under him, but his free hand caught my
hip and that wild, preternatural strength held me immobile once more. I panted under him, parted thighs trembling as the adrenaline
coursing through me wavered.
I could feel the smooth leather of his belt against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh and the roughness of the material of his pants.
My fingernails dug crescents into the soft wood of the desk as I desperately tried to grip onto something. He leaned in closer, and
suddenly I could smell him—the woodsy aroma of myrrh mixed with aged tobacco, along with the scent of the Macallan he had recently
sipped on. Beneath that was the deep, metallic scent that was universally known to vampires. Despite myself, I inhaled the primal
fragrance of him and my body… reacted.
Vampire pheromones, I thought hysterically as gooseflesh pimpled on my body. Logically, I knew what was happening—my body
was readying itself, making itself the perfect prey for the top predator—but I couldn’t stop it, even though I tried.
Gods, I tried.
My stomach tightened with need, and arousal soaked my core.
Fuck, I thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
 Eoin

Chapter Nine

I smiled.
I felt the shift in her body immediately, I smelled it.
And feck, did she smell divine.
My mouth watered, practically drooled over the sweet nectar that dripped from her cunt. I had just
fed hours before, but I suddenly felt ravenous, the beast inside of me screaming for a taste of the La
Rosa woman who swore my name even as her nipples tightened below my gaze. She fought below
me, even as her pupils dilated, the golden orbs narrowed angrily as they met mine.
Unable to resist, my head lowered, my tongue swiping over the large curve of her tits. My dick
pressed tight against her cunt, making her hips rut against me even as her teeth bared, snapping at me
like the mutts her father kept around.
“Yer ’ather’s dogs teach ye that?” I goaded her, my teeth bared back when she jerked against my
hands with an exasperated growl, her tits shook back and forth just under my chin with her thrashing.
“Fuck. You,” was all she managed to get out, her mouth parting in a husky moan as more
pheromones leaked from my skin, my body’s natural attempt to calm my prey.
With a chuckle, my free hand moved to grab a handful of her voluptuous ass, pressing my very hard dick against her needy cunt, and
met one of her wild thrusts with a hard grind. Despite the nasty look etched into her features, her cunt begged for me. Her arousal was
thick, heavy like a blanket on my tongue. Her body and mind were at war, and it was plain to see by the way she kicked her heels into
my back and continued to snarl at me through her teeth.
Unfortunately for her, my powers were far stronger than she could have ever resisted, and I was
far too greedy and selfish to let her go just yet. Not until her skin was saturated with my scent and she
came with my name on her bitter, vengeful tongue.
My free hand pressed along her side, sinking into every bump and curve until it reached the zipper
nestled between her breasts. With a hard tug, I pulled it down to her navel, her tits spilling out the
sides, dark pink nipples pebbled and aching to be touched. I pumped forward with my hips as my
tongue laved at one of the hard peaks and my nose nestled into the soft flesh of her tit. Not to be
ignored, wet kisses were pressed against her chest until I’d sucked her other tit into my mouth,
suckling at her like I was starved.
Ottavia’s needy pants rung in my ears, each one followed by an ugly curse. Her wrists jerked
under my palm, fighting to be free. At the risk of her getting loose—or trying to stab me again—I let
them free. She lunged forward the same time I leaned back. Her nails scratched and tore at my flesh,
but I didn’t care, letting her rip my shirt nearly off in her rage.
With a sharp tug, I ripped her bodysuit to the side and shoved my fingers knuckle deep inside of
her pussy. The movement effectively cut off her fight for the moment. Ottavia’s head fell back, her
neck arched for me, her pulse pounding in her throat.
My dick strained against the confines of my pants, and pre-cum wet the fabric and dripped down
the hard length of it. I groaned as her warm, wet cunt squeezed around my fingers, cream pooling in
my palm. I felt my control over the situation slipping as the monster inside of me pushed to slip into
the forefront of my mind, mad with the scent of her slick. My teeth bared as she rutted against my
hand, fangs ached with the need to taste her. Her bare tits pressed hard against my chest, and one of
her hands gripped my throat as if attempting to choke me, her mind still fighting against my powers.
Even so, she whined and ground against my hand despite it, her brows tilted angrily. I pushed forward, drool dribbling from my mouth
splattering onto the tops of her breasts. I salivated like the mangy mutts I despised, craving a taste of her, more desperately than I’d ever
wanted to taste anyone.
More spit dripped from my fangs as I hovered above her pulse point. One of her hands grabbed at my hair, tugging so hard a few
strands pulled loose with her fingers, but I paid her no mind. My lips met her skin, her pulse drumming along them, tempting me. My
teeth grazed her soft, warm flesh, and my fingers pumped inside of her weeping cunt, her angry pants filled with lusty moans.
In the next breath, I bit her.
My teeth sunk deep into her flesh at the same time she came, her greedy cunt squeezing my fingers,
tugging them deeper as she screamed her release in a rage-filled bellow. My eyes caught on my
reflection in the side of a broken coffee mug, warped and distorted, but the feral look in my blown
pupils and wild hair was unmistakable.
She’d brought out the beast.
I yanked back from her and shoved us apart with so much force, the desk she sat upon slammed
back against the wall and crushed the chair behind it. Ottavia startled. Still high on my pheromones,
she still smelled of lust and sex, but her heart beat with a mixture of fear, adrenaline, and disgust.
My hands shook with the force it took not to storm across the room and grab her once again, and
my teeth remained bared. A growl rumbled from my chest as I rooted myself in place to keep away
from her.
Decades.
Centuries, even. It’s been so, so long since I’d had that kind of reaction to someone.
And to a La Rosa, no less.
Although I wanted to devour her whole, chain her to me indefinitely, the logical part of my brain
knew that in that moment, I needed to let her go. I needed her to leave.
And now.
“Out wit’ ye,” I snarled out. When she didn’t immediately move, I yelled, pushing my enthrall onto
her to knock the rest of the pheromones away and get her to move. “Leave!”
Ottavia’s body moved on command. Her sweaty, pleasured limbs quickly adjusted her bodysuit
back into place before practically sprinting from the room without so much as a backward glance. A
guard quickly came to the door, pausing hesitantly in the entryway.
I spoke over my back, “Blood.” I swallowed, and my gaze snapped to his. His knees nearly
bucked with the power rolling off of me. “Now.”
In a frantic movement of limbs, he sprinted out of the room, and not even a second later a donor
was thrown in. I turned and grabbed her before the door was even shut.
“Wha—”
Her words were cut off, morphing into a desperate moan as my pheromones hit her, my powers
washing over her like a tidal wave. She came on the spot, her eyes rolling back into her head as I
grabbed her and slammed her back against the wall. Yanking my dick from my pants, I hoisted her up,
ramming her already creaming pussy down onto me with a feral grunt. My teeth found her neck, biting
so deeply her skin tore, blood pouring from the corners of my mouth as I drained her and rutted like
an animal inside of her slippery cunt.
She was oblivious to any of it, lost in her cloud of pleasure as she came again, screaming her
release into my ear. My balls swelled, gut coiling, as I neared my release. Biting harder I tore into her
throat, blood running down the front of her clothes. Her moans turned into gurgles, even as she crested
a third orgasm. I rutted even deeper, hot spurts of cum sprayed her insides as I came, a savage growl
shaking my chest as I released my hold on her throat. With a heavy sigh, I dropped her limp body to
the ground, her fingers twitching with her draining life.
I thrummed with an energy I hadn’t felt in centuries, my body feeling the kind of satisfaction it had been craving. Hand rising to wipe
the blood off my chin, my eyes found the wooden stake in the wall. Sudden regret panged in my chest. I never should have let her go.
Because now that I had felt this again, I refused to go back to the way it was.
Ottavia La Rosa will be mine.
Even if I had to burn the entire world to keep her.
 Ottavia

Chapter Ten

T he air smelled cold and damp as I walked, unsteady, toward home. Birds chirped in the early
morning light, greeting the rising sun with happy and carefree remarks, a stark contrast to the dark
thoughts whirring within my mind.
Mud splattered my legs as I tramped through puddles, staining my boots and thighs. My hair was a
dark curtain around my shoulders, hiding the throbbing bite mark on my throat. I raised a hand to it
and felt the oily stain of blood still marring my skin.
A sneer worked its way onto my face.
That bastard.
I had fought with everything in me, and he’d only toyed with me. In the end, all of my training and
skills were no match for the sheer animalistic cunning and strength of a true Abhartach. The ones I had
killed in the past must have been fledglings, newly-turned humans that hadn’t amassed any great
powers and were without their full preternatural strength.
My father, without a doubt, knew I was missing from the compound by now, so I didn’t make any
effort to sneak back in. Instead, I approached the front, doing my best to appear confident and not as
weary and worn down as I felt.
I was not prepared to tell my father about me running headfirst into a near-death experience.
At my appearance, the two armed men standing guard at the gate did a double take almost
simultaneously, before I saw them making frantic calls on their comms units. Then, the gate was
opened and I was being ushered in. Luca was rushing down the wide stone steps and racing toward
me as I wove my way up the gravel path toward the house.
His eyes were frantic and he sported a bloodied lip and purple eye that were gifts from my father,
I suspected, but at least he was still alive. I was ashamed to admit that I hadn’t even considered the
consequences my actions would’ve had on Luca.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, sincere. I laid a hand on his bicep. Now that my brother was gone, Luca
was the only other person in the world that I considered a friend. “Truly. I am so sorry, Luca.”
The blond-haired man let out a heavy sigh. Knowing him as long as I had, I could tell he was
holding back what he truly wanted to say. But instead of laying into me, he just gave me a small smile
and laid a guiding hand on my back and led me through the maze of the house, to my room.
 “Get some rest, Ottie. I’ll keep him occupied for as long as I can,” he said quietly as he backed
out of my room, shutting the door softly behind him.
It was more than I deserved, honestly. Luca’s family was close to mine, so he held more sway
with my father than most, but putting himself directly in the path of my father’s rage was not something
a person did lightly. The fact that he was willing to do it, when I’d already forced him into the path
once tonight, meant the world to me.
I drowned out my shame in the steam of the shower. The hot water burned against the fresh bite
mark and a thought that was percolating around my head came to the forefront. Why did he let me go?
I didn’t have the answer. I didn’t even have any guesses.
Eoin Ó Ceallaigh was a mystery.
After exiting my shower, I didn’t even bother dressing. Just stayed wrapped in the heavyweight
towel and dropped into my bed, burying my face in my pillow.
For the first time since I received the news of my brother’s death, I let myself feel the grief, and I
cried myself to sleep.
 Eoin

Chapter Eleven

T he sun had just barely set, the daylight hidden only enough that I could walk freely. There was a
warm breeze in the air, the sweet smell of flowers mixed with the woody stench of fresh dirt. My
foot crunched over a faded blue plastic flower as I walked through the cemetery, hands casually
tucked into my pockets. Despite the breeze, I could smell her. And just the little soft waft of amber
was enough to track.
It had been a few days since I’d let Ottavia slip through my fingers.
Tonight I was correcting that mistake.
Her dark hair had come into view first, long and thick, falling in waves down her back. Her body
was wrapped in a formfitting black dress that fell to her ankles, hiding her feet. Her shoulders lightly
shook as she cried, her palms rising to swipe away the tears from her cheeks. Just as I could smell
her, I could smell that my men were also here, just as planned. I hadn’t known for sure that she’d still
be here, but I’d had a strong hunch. From what information I had been able to gather within the last
few days, she preferred to grieve alone. So it was an educated guess that she would stay late after her
brother’s funeral to mourn in peace.
Well, she wasn’t exactly alone, but my men had already disposed of most of her guards before I
had even arrived. In my experience, most mutts and mortals were absolutely useless. Tonight was a
testament to that. If this was how Mattia thought he was keeping Ottavia safe all these years from me,
he was far more delusional than I had ever thought before.
He’s just lucky she wasn’t on my radar until now.
My hand rose, stopping my men as they crept up to her weeping form and the guard looking upon
her with pity.
“Yer ’ather really needs ta work on ’is security detail.” Ottavia’s face snapped to mine, red-
rimmed eyes wide with disbelief.
She stood, the guard next to her raising a gun in warning, but even I could see the slight tremble of
his hand. “This is La Rosa property! One step more and I’ll shoot!”
With a flick of my fingers he was silenced, his head snapped sideways in a fraction of a second,
and his gun dropped from his useless fingers moments before his body fell to the grass near Ottavia’s
feet.
She gasped, before her shock dissipated enough to reach for the gun. Before my men could stop
her, she snatched it from the grass, firing off two shots that landed square in my chest. My stride
faltered for only a moment, and a hiss slipped through my lips as I shook my head at her, watching her
fight the hold my men now had on her.
“Let go of me! Help! Someone help me!” she bellowed, wrenching back and forth uselessly against them. I had made sure to bring
some of my stronger men this time, knowing what she was capable of.
“I was goin’ to offer me condolences, but na, I don’ think I will.” I moved to stand before her, my
hand brushing over the bullet holes in my chest.
“Fuck you!” she screamed in my face as more tears dripped from her cheeks, a mixture of fear and
grief.
My hand rose, fingers brushing aside her heavy curtain of hair to thumb the sealed pink bite mark.
“Worry na, love. We’ll git there.”
A bellow of fury erupted from her, a feral, angry scream that sent the birds flying from the trees
surrounding us as my men dragged her kicking form away toward the vehicles. “I’ll kill you! I swear
it, Eoin Ó Ceallaigh, I’ll drive a stake through your cold, lifeless heart!”
I smiled, my teeth catching on my lip. “Ye sure can try, love.”
I was met with another scream, the sound trailing off along with more threats that made me
chuckle as I turned to look at her brother’s grave. Pulling a coin from my pocket, I rubbed it between
my fingers, glancing down at the bleeding snake etched into the silver. I tossed it onto the pile of fresh
dirt, a parting gift for the La Rosas to find later, so they knew exactly who Ottavia was with.
Declan stepped up beside me, his gaze on the coin. “Lig cogadh a bheith ann.”
Let there be war.
 In my grief and rage-filled attempt at revenge,
I’d let myself fall right into the viscous lure of Eoin Ó Ceallaigh.

Unequipped to go against him, despite my efforts, I’ve been locked inside his ivory tower,
forced to become a prisoner of both his and my body.

He will stop at nothing to break me, to make me his.

And every day that passes I find that I lose a little bit of the woman I used to be.

War rages just outside my gilded cage,

But an even bigger one wages inside of my chest.

The question is, will I make it out alive?

Want to know what happens next?

Find out in the Guns vs Fangs full-length book one, Blood Feud, hitting kindles March 17th 2023.
Pre-Order
 more from salem

Standalones:

Garden of Witches—MMF paranormal academy

Enjoy the monstrous town of Grimlake:

Grave Tidings—Krampus punishes a naughty girl

Frosted Hearts—A lost woman learns that Jack Frost is real. MMF
Stupid Cupid—Krampus and Noelle navigate feelings, Lupercalia, and dildos.

Anthologies:

Mistletoe and Monsters—monsters enjoying the Christmas season

Dark Romance:

The Murder Game—Foster brother why-choose with stalker themes

The Anatomy of Death—Doctor/patient reverse age gap with a serial killer
 more from AJ

Standalone

Obisidian Star—DARK hook & tinkerbell retelling

Between Ash & Sea—Regency historical romance
Wrecked—Billionaire dark romance novella
Liberated—A Wrecked Novel

Kindred Souls Duet

Kismet—Second chance heart transplant

Kaizen—Second chance & redemption (coming soon)

Luciano Mafia

Devious Vows—Enemies to lovers & arranged marriage

Oath of Redemption—Dark revenge romance

Coming Soon

Chastity—Reverse harem hitmen

 about the authors

Salem Sinclair is an International Best Selling author of monster smut. As a queer author, she truly enjoys writing romance with
LGBTQ+ rep. She drinks too much iced coffee, swears like a sailor, and survives on slasher films and true crime podcasts. Salem lives in
the rural South with her dogs and tween kiddo, and is forever drowning in the humidity.

If you want to stay up to date with Salem's books, you can locate her on multiple social media platforms under @authorsalemsinclair or
visit her website, www.salemsinclairauthor.com.

AJ Wolf is a self-proclaimed coffee enthusiast who loves reverse harem books and is addicted to adopting animals. She digs crows,
witchy things & anime. Halle lives on a small hobby farm surrounded by her favorite people and growing animal family. She writes under
two pen names—AJ Wolf & Halle.

Follow her socials under @ajwolfauthor or visit her website www.ajwolfauthor.com to stay up to date with all of AJ’s current and
upcoming books.
Another random document with
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