CHAPTER ONE
THEA
It starts with a tingle, followed by numerous vibrations that reverberate up and down the length of my arms. Then I begin to feel lightheaded and nauseous, my stomach twisting into a thousand knots.
Finally, my dagger materializes in my hand and illuminates, the runes etched along its handle emanating a soft golden glow.
I groan and grip my head as I feel that familiar, incessant tugging sensation in the center of my chest.
Not now…
Not so soon after the last one…
Of course, no one hears me or listens to my plea.
No one ever does.
I’m speaking into a radio that has long since shattered.
The world around me dissipates one molecule at a time until I’m left in a sea of dazzling white light. I blink, and when I reopen my eyes, I’m no longer standing in my prison for the better part of an eternity.
I’m in a bedroom.
Where a vampire pounds into a succubus, sweat beading on his forehead from exertion and her hands gripping his shoulders.
“Yes, Jasper, yes!” The succubus writhes and moans on the bed, arching her back so her perky tits are practically in his face.
He lowers his head to suck on one of her nipples as his thrusts increase, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.
I wonder which one of them it’s going to be this time. Usually, it’s obvious.
I have to say this is much more entertaining than some of my other…trips.
I’m not particularly attracted to either of them, but waves of blazing heat race through my veins, and my lower belly tightens. My core throbs as I watch the two lovers together. My nipples harden where they brush against the fabric of my shirt.
“Way to work it, Romeo,” I deadpan, though neither of them turns towards me. They can’t hear or see me, of course. No one alive can. “I love the enthusiasm. And way to be encouraging, Juliet. Ten out of ten performance.”
The vampire—Jasper,notRomeo, my preferred nickname for men in these situations—begins to strum her clit as his fangs sink into the skin of her breast. She cries out in pleasure, raking her fingers through his unruly brown hair.
“Yes, baby. Yes,” she coos, her lips curling upwards.
At first, I think her smile is because of the mind-numbing orgasm she obviously just had. Lucky bitch.
Then Jasper cries out—the sound anything but pleasurable—and trembles erratically. White foam erupts from his slightly parted lips, still stained red with her blood.
The woman’s smile turns cold. Calculating. Malevolent.
Ahhh.
Interesting.
There’s nothing more entertaining than a lover’s spat, especially when it morphs into murder.
“You shouldn’t have cheated on me, you lying bastard,” she hisses, climbing off the bed with an intentional sway to her hips.
She tosses a strand of silky red hair over her shoulder and grabs a bathrobe off a hook on the door. She doesn’t close it, however, which makes me wonder…what’s the point of it? I can still seeeverything, from her bloody tits to her mound of red pubic hair to her arousal drizzling down her thighs.
Have some damn modesty when you’re murdering someone. Geez.
