Eternal Hunger

9

Euro-trance club music vibrated off the walls of the three-story town house in Brooklyn’s Boerum Hill. It was what they liked—the humans—hot music and lethal sex with someone or some thing they never had to see again when the danger buzz wore off.

Ethan Dare walked the halls of the home his eighth wife had owned before her very fortunate passing three years ago. Internally renovated and historic, the late-1800s town house had all the original features, including a garden. But for the Impure, the only feature that mattered to him in the slightest was the eight large bedrooms he and his recruits used to fuck any and all humans as well as Pureblood and Impures who willingly crossed their path.

The scent of sex and sweat flooded Ethan’s nostrils, made his head, and the stiff rod in his pants, pulse. A new and exciting development, for it had been a long time since his cock had done anything but lay limp against his leg. More than two hundred years since the night the Eternal Order had blood castrated him—him and any other Impure they could find.

But things had changed. The Supreme One, the hidden benefactor of their cause, had given his blood—granting Ethan and his recruits new life, new power.

Ethan stopped at one bedroom door, then another, observing his work in progress. His recruits, male and female Impures—those like himself with incomplete blood—were stretched out on beds, pressed back against walls, on their hands and knees rutting like dogs. His cock twitched and his forked tongue, a disfigurement gifted by a gang of Purebloods back when he was just a balas enslaved in his credenti, slipped in and out of his mouth.

The Impures, the ones who had escaped their homes and their lives of servitude and impossible desire, had given their allegiance to him, and their trust. After all, he was a savior of sorts. He had been the one to find a cure for their castrated and powerless blood.

Yes, the Impures would spread their seed and their legs for Ethan and the good of the cause because they too yearned for the extinction of the illustrious and oh so pure Eternal Breed—they too wanted to see a new Order, a new, ruling Breed of Impures like themselves.

It wasn’t a quick or easy task. In the seven months of the program, only a few of the balas created had stuck to their hosts’ wombs—Ethan’s included. But if they could hang on, in two months’ time the seeds of infection would bloom in the heart of vampire society and the Impure revolution would be under way.

Ethan leaned against the door frame and watched his largest male recruit pound into the excited and willing human female. Eyes closed and legs splayed, the woman moaned and hissed, gripping the male’s shoulders. Ethan’s groin throbbed with need, with the power of what he was creating here.

“Commander?”

The soft sound landed close to Ethan’s ear and he turned away from the action to eyeball the male behind him. Alistair, a handsome Impure who had the look of an eighties surfer and a penchant for high school-age human females, inclined his head. “Forgive the disturbance, Commander.”

“Is my girl locked up nice and tight?” Ethan asked.

Alistair smiled broadly, his dimples popping. “Like a fist, Commander.”

“And her mother?”

“Believes her daughter is aself-destructive brat who will do anything, including cutting her flesh, to get attention. She is pleased that the girl is getting the serious mental help she needs.”

Ethan nodded. “Good. Keep a close watch on her. Make sure she remains in the hospital. She carries our future within her.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Movement caught Ethan’s focus and he waved Alistair away. His lead recruit, Mear, a thickly muscled, violet-eyed Impure was walking down the hall toward him, combat boots cracking against the wood floors. Conversely, trailing behind him was a tall, thin, impish-looking male Ethan had never seen before. He pushed away from the wall, met the pair halfway, and demanded in a curt tone, “What do we have here?”

“A new recruit, Commander,” Mear said.

Ethan eyeballed the large Impure and sneered. “He’s human, Mear. He can rut along with the other human male dogs here, but he will never be a recruit.”

“He wishes to become Imiti, sir,” Mear said, using the ancient word for an imitation vampire, one who can take on the characteristics of a vampire if they are consistently fed. “With my blood in his veins, he will make the change.”

Ethan paused. “Your blood?”

Mear nodded.

Normally, a human could not become Imiti unless they drank from a Pureblood, but for Ethan and his recruits, things were different. The Supreme One had made it so. “You will feed him?” Ethan asked.

“Yes.” Mear’s lavender eyes glittered with anticipation.

“Why?”

“We were friends in the human’s juvenile system for many years. He assisted me in my escape.”

“Did he?” Ethan turned to the human, who was shaking like a dog who’d been kicked every day of his life. It was a feeling Ethan remembered well. “What is your name, human?”

“Tom Trainer,” the man squeaked.

“You understand what this means, Tom Trainer?”

Looking like he was about to shit his pants, the human nodded slowly.

A smile twitched at Ethan’s lips. “Our poor Mear, our best fighter, cannot bear to lay with a female. You will take care of his needs?”

Tom swallowed tightly, but again, he nodded.

“And he will work for you, Commander,” Mear put in, “do whatever he’s told.”

“How nice,” Ethan drawled, enjoying the human’s fear and confusion, not to mention Mear’s excitement over his new pet. “To give to the cause, without any quid pro quo.”

There was a pause, then a whisper of “Sir, he does need something.”

Chuckling softly, Ethan moved closer to the human, stood eye to eye with him, and asked, “What is it you want, Tom Trainer? What are you so willing to give your life for? Because, make no mistake, once you stepped into this little world of mine and offered your body to Mear, your life became mine to command.”

Baby brown eyes flickered up, found Ethan’s calculated glare. He whispered something unintelligible.

“Speak up, human!” Ethan demanded. “I can barely hear you.”

“A woman,” Tom said.

“Ah,” Ethan drawled, eyebrows lifted. “You will make Mear jealous.”

“Not to fuck,” Tom said in an almost violent tone. “To hurt, to bleed, to kill.”

“She has rejected you,” Ethan said as if he gave a shit.

“Yes.” Emotionally amped up now, Tom continued his tirade. “She must die. She and that fanged animal who was with her.”

Ethan’s gaze shot to Mear’s. “What is this?”

“My friend claims that his love for the woman was interrupted by a vampire, Commander. A vampire with burning tattoos on his face.”

Ethan stilled, a cold fear rolling through him. “Tattoos on his face? Are you certain?”

“Yes . . . Commander,” Tom managed. “On both cheeks. They looked like something a branding iron would do.”

Was it possible? Ethan wondered, alarmed. A descendant of the Breeding Male close by? And if so, what did it mean for Ethan’s plan, his new Order?

Unwilling to show his unease over the news the human had brought with him, Ethan regarded Tom with a cold smile. “You know that there are fanged animals here?”

Tom paled. “Not like that one.”

No, not like that one. Ethan’s gaze bore down on Tom. “All right, human, you will drink from Mear, you will gain in strength, and your female will die at your hand. In return, you belong to me—you will fight for me.” Ethan closed his eyes and pulled air into his nostrils. “Now tell me more about this singed paven.”