Alasdair

  Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  ALSO BY ELLA FRANK

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  COMING SOON

  SPECIAL THANKS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Copyright © 2015 by Ella Frank

  www.ellafrank.com

  Edited by Mickey Reed

  Edited by Candace Wood

  Cover Design © By Hang Le

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Also by Ella Frank

  The Exquisite Series

  Exquisite

  Entice

  Edible

  The Temptation Series

  Try

  Take

  Trust

  Standalones

  Blind Obsession

  Veiled Innocence

  The Arcanian Chronicles

  Temperance

  A Desperate Man Series

  Co-authored with Brooke Blaine

  A Desperate Man: Volume One

  A Desperate Man: Volume Two

  A Desperate Man: Volume Three

  A Desperate Man: The Complete Series

  October—Present Day

  HUNGER. BOTH CARNAL and self-sustaining.

  It was a physical sensation Alasdair Kyriakoús was intimately familiar with, and as he waited in the shadows of the apartments on 4th Avenue, it was also the one fueling his latest hunt.

  A cool wind rustled through the leaves of the oak tree he was standing by, shifting the ends of his black pea coat against his thighs. He pushed his hands into his coat’s pockets as he stared up at the window he’d been drawn back to night after night, and he wondered why he couldn’t stay away.

  As a first-sired vampire to one of the Ancients, Alasdair was notorious for many reasons. He could have his pick of anyone in their brood, but he was particular about where he sank his teeth and his cock and took pride in the control he wielded over his hunger.

  At least, he had up until two weeks ago. That was when his self-imposed restraint had become more of a challenge—and all because of him. The man whose deep, even breathing he could hear from the second-floor apartment.

  Two weeks earlier

  IT WAS RAINING again. Not the heavy, pelting kind, but the drizzly mist that barely dampened one’s clothes in comparison. The street was quiet for a Friday night, but that wasn’t unusual considering the weather.

  Alasdair stood under the low light of a streetlamp and waited for something…appetizing to come along. His cousin Isadora had just left, after making him promise to be back by midnight, and when he glanced at his watch, he saw that that left him with thirty minutes to kill—in the most literal sense of the word.

  The door to the pub across the street opened not a minute later, and the man who stepped out onto the sidewalk ensnared Alasdair’s senses in an instant.

  Hmm… Tall, lean, and easy on the eyes.

  From where Alasdair was standing, he had the perfect vantage point to observe without being detected. So he shrank back into the shadows and waited patiently.

  When the human’s cell phone rang, he dug inside the bag he had slung across his body to fish it out. He looked at the screen to see who was calling, and the chuckle that slipped free was warm, the timbre of it matching the smile that spread across his mouth.

  It was carefree.

  It was easy.

  And it made the idea of feeding from him that much more appealing.

  Wearing a white shirt and a navy-blue cardigan buttoned crookedly up the center, the man didn’t appear to be the athletic sort, which also made him a much simpler conquest. Instead, he had a bookish look about him. His sun-kissed hair was cut short at the back of his neck, but the longer strands on top of his head were all over the place in a haphazard mess, and he clutched the strap of his worn messenger bag like it was a seat belt in a speeding car.

  “Elias. Are you calling to say how much you miss me already? That’s so sweet,” the man said as he wandered down the street. “Yes, I know it was my birthday get-together, but I had to leave. My virtue was in jeopardy... Did you see how handsy that guy was? I don’t care if you’re wishing me a happy birthday or congratulating me on a new job. The rule is: you don’t touch unless you’re invited.”

  As the human got closer, Alasdair faded, blending with the inky shapes cast on the bricks so he wouldn't be detected.

  “Other than that, it was great... Are you kidding? Quit worrying, would you? I didn’t want to deal with the cliché pick-up lines on my twenty-seventh year of living. Plus, I’m getting old. I’m tired and completely overworked. You may have heard—my boss is a real slave driver.”

  Alasdair caught the scent wafting off his skin as the man continued along his ill-fated path. Fresh and clean, like the rain falling around them. It was crisp, elemental, and it caused his teeth to ache. Then the human laughed again, and Alasdair’s cock twitched in response.

  It was a real shame he wasn’t planning to take him that night. Take him and feed on him, like his hunger was urging him to. But no, something about this one made him want to wait.

  Perhaps it was the independence he sensed in him. That he’d left his own party as opposed to being groped by some stranger challenged something inside Alasdair.

  Yes…it would be wise to watch him a little longer, discover what made him tick, and then go in for the kill. After all, half the fun was the anticipation. Embracing that craving which would build inside him to the ultimate peak, where all he wanted, all he thought about, was possessing the one he’d been tracking.

  Then came the biggest thrill of all—the chase.

  THAT WAS THE first night he’d followed him home. And ever since, Alasdair had felt compelled to hunt him with the single-minded determination of a predator stalking its prey.

  Repeatedly, he had told himself to disregard the incessant draw, and his lack of control had mocked him. But no matter the duties that called or the recent string of potential yieldings Isadora had paraded by him, nothing had been able to dissuade Alasdair from the occupant in 2B.

  And tonight was the night.

  Stepping out of the darkness, he crossed the cracked concrete of the walkway and craned his head, narrowing his eyes on the second-floor window. An intoxicating rush flowed through him at the thought of infiltrating the human’s mind for the first time.

  Oh yes… He’d been gifted with many things the night he’d been turned, but that particular trait was one of his favorites. The ability to pierce through the relaxed layers of consciousness and delve deeper into the subconscious. He was anticipating that as much as the final feed.

  With no more than a flash of thought, he was inside the man’s room a
nd standing at the foot of a large bed.

  Locks. Such a useless human defense.

  He cocked his head to the side and examined the book splayed open on the man’s naked chest. It looked as though it had fallen there when he’d drifted off to sleep, his fingers still resting against the glossy cover.

  Heroes, Gods, and Monsters of the Greek Myths.

  Now that is an unlikely coincidence.

  A sinister smile morphed Alasdair’s lips, and he touched the tip of his tongue to the fangs elongating from his upper gums. The familiar surge of adrenaline caused his skin to come alive with awareness as his body prepared itself to do what it had been created for.

  Raising his hand, he flicked his wrist and the covers whisked back. The man beneath was no more aware of the action than a slight shift in the air as a low sigh escaped him and he stretched his body, turning his head on the pillow.

  The sight that greeted Alasdair made the hours he’d spent tracking well worth the time. When the human took a breath, the knotted drawstring tie of his linen lounge pants caught his attention. Fuck, that made him want to indulge his carnal side first.

  Maybe this was the root of his current obsession. In fact, that thought was followed by one truer to his perverse nature. How long would it take to have him clutching those covers from lust if I wanted it? And as Alasdair continued to observe the human, he realized just how much he wanted it.

  The chest where the book was lying was covered in a light dusting of blond hair. It trailed a path along the center of the man’s sternum to his stomach, which looked as hard as his own. However, unlike his own abdomen, this man’s skin would be warm to the touch.

  Perhaps he could take a moment or two and… No, he didn’t have the time, and that really was a shame. A meeting had been called this evening, and he was due at the Assembly Hall soon. The last thing he wanted to do was piss off the Ancients by being late.

  So, with the speed and the stealth only his kind possessed, he was on the bed and stretched out above the man, and his mouth hovered over the ear closest to him. He threw the book, which landed with a loud thump on the floor, and couldn’t stop himself from slipping one of his hands beneath those thin pants to curl his fingers around the flaccid cock he found inside. When a soft groan left the human, Alasdair used his other hand to capture his captive’s wrists like iron shackles and pin them above his head. Before the man had a chance to wake, he delved inside his head and projected an image of where this hunt would finally end.

  It was somewhere he hadn’t thought of in a long while, but after having spotted that book, he suddenly had an intense urge to revisit there with this fair-haired specimen.

  The bathhouses.

  Yes, it’s perfect. He had him exactly where he wanted him.

  Not a thing on Earth could save the poor soul now, and as his teeth cracked into deadly formation, Alasdair dove inside his mind and goaded, “Run.”

  THERE WAS A bright, blinding light, and again, Leo dreamed.

  It was an odd sensation to be reliving the same dream sequence over and over, but that’s what had been happening—until tonight. Tonight, something was different. Something was out of place.

  Over the last few weeks, he’d been imagining himself alone in front of an altar while clutching something in his hand. The altar had resembled those back in ancient times—an oblong podium constructed from marble—and he’d chalked his imaginings up to the project he and his coworkers had been working on at the museum.

  Tonight, however, the light that usually shone so brightly around him had been snuffed out, and he was pulled into the darkness by someone or something.

  HE HEARD HIM before he saw him.

  A hypnotic voice instructed him to, “Run,” and some inner instinct told him to listen. Leo bolted to the left, recognizing his surroundings as the bathhouses he’d been researching for an upcoming exhibit at work. Several white pillars flanked an enormous rectangular pool, which was carved into the stone ground, and he darted behind one of them.

  As he tried to catch his breath, his body started to heat. He felt flushed, as though he were aroused, and when he looked down to his cock, he noticed it was as hard as the pillar he was resting against.

  What the hell is going on?

  The thought quickly dissipated, though, as a low groan left his lips.

  He scanned the area, taking in everything he could about the place. The classic architecture of the Doric columns made it clear where he was, but…

  How is this possible?

  It felt as though he’d fallen inside one of his textbooks and woken up in Ancient Greece—with a fucking hard on.

  A mocking chuckle echoed inside his head like a chain rattling against a steel trap. He shook it, trying to banish the sound, as he squeezed his eyes shut. He was breathing in heavy pants now, the odd sensation of being given one hell of an amazing hand job more obvious than it had been two seconds ago, and his lungs tried to pull in extra oxygen as he waited for…

  What? What am I waiting for? He wasn’t even sure.

  He moved his hand, about to press it against the erection throbbing between his legs, and that was when he realized he was still dressed in his pajama pants.

  So this is definitely some kind of nightmare.

  “Almost.”

  Leo jerked back against the pillar, quickly moving his hand by his side again, when the stranger belonging to the voice appeared from out of nowhere.

  “You’re still in bed. That’s the ‘almost’ part. But this isn’t a nightmare, and you want to know a secret?” the stranger asked.

  Then he felt it again—a strong fist stroking up the length of his erection—and Leo’s entire body shuddered, reacting from the sheer pleasure of it.

  “What happens in here also happens out there.”

  Leo searched the stranger’s face, trying to recognize something about the man he’d conjured up in his dream. But nothing about the short, dark hair and piercing emerald eyes were familiar. Neither was the way he was making him feel.

  “I can hear your pulse,” the stranger informed him in a silky tone. “Thump, thump, thump. It’s a beautiful melody. Is it from fear, I wonder? Or perhaps something more basic in nature. Something more…sexual.”

  Leo tried to speak, something he usually didn’t have a problem with. But he couldn’t get anything past the lump that had lodged itself in his throat. The man taunting and touching him was extraordinarily attractive. More so than anyone he’d ever met. And even if his words and the situation hadn’t been alarming enough, being this close to such male perfection would’ve likely rendered him—

  “Mute? Oh, that won’t do. Thelo na se gamiso,” his dark fantasy said, slipping into another language.

  Greek. And he’d interrupted Leo’s thoughts as if he’d said them out loud.

  “But I don’t want your silence when I do it. I want to hear you scream.”

  The way he’d said the word scream could’ve been taken as it had been delivered. Full of sensual promise in the haze of Leo’s sexed-up state of mind. But as a contemptuous smirk drew the man’s lips back to reveal two gleaming fangs, the hair on the back of Leo’s neck stood tall. Any attraction he’d been feeling seconds ago drained away and was replaced with dread.

  He’d just been reading about this—the monsters of Greek mythology—and he’d come across The Scriptures of Delphi and the origins of vampires. That had to explain this bizarre dream he was having, the reason for this monster in his head.

  “This can’t be happening,” he finally managed to say, hearing the disbelief in his own voice. “You’re not real. I’m imagining you. This is a nightmare.” It was the only logical explanation as his lips fell open on another sigh of pleasure and he stared into the face of a…vampire.

  Before he could think beyond that, the fist around his cock vanished, and a solid pressure pushed on his shoulder. Then cold fingers pressed against his temple, shoving his head to the side to expose his neck, and he heard, “If that’s
true then this shouldn’t hurt at all.”

  The patent lie ghosted over his ear as the blinding sting of what felt like a thousand knives sank into his throat. A shout tore from his chest as the vampire plastered itself to his front and let out a feral growl.

  The hand on his shoulder ran down his bare arm to his bicep and jerked him forward. He tried to put up a token fight, raising his other hand to shove his attacker, but it was as effective as trying to move a boulder. The vampire was as solid and cool as the column he’d been pressed against, and Leo knew that his effort to escape was a futile one.

  As his vision dimmed and his heartbeat slowed, he wondered if what the vampire had said earlier was true. “‘What happens in here also happens out there.’” If it was, Leo only had seconds until—

  The teeth devouring him ripped free, and the hands holding him released him with a hard shove. His knees gave out, and as he collapsed at the feet of the dangerous creature, he heard it say, “This cannot be happening,” which mirrored his own thought from earlier.

  Then everything faded to nothingness.

  ALASDAIR BLINKED, SEVERING the connection between him and the man, and yanked himself from the mind he’d been immersed within.

  What the fuck is going on?

  He tried to focus on the human pressed beneath him on the bed, but all he could see was a crimson pool of blood seeping from the wounds he’d inflicted. That wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But the acidic burn racing through his own extremities was.

  He wasn’t supposed to feel that. The pain wasn’t supposed to be his. But as he tried to gather his keen hunter senses, he couldn’t locate them. Instead, his vision was starting to blur.

  As quickly as he could manage, which was infuriatingly slow at that stage, he pushed away from the human. But his arm gave way and he lurched downward instead.