This posting is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY.
It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.
These are parts of stories that are still being written. And therefore haven’t had a BETA read, let alone a editing from me.
This is from my newest series that I’m writing alongside Moonlit Wolves, where that one was light, holding less mess, both blood and past, this one has it all. More so, this is probably what I enjoy writing more. But I’m a little fickle about these things, so it’s what I’m really enjoying at the moment.
Hunting a Traitor
(Assassins’ Union #1)
After being an assassin for more lives than Quinton would like to think, he is awaken to the reality of himself. He is a slave. Born into servitude by the very vampire that pulled him off the Roman battlefields.
Now, after killing his own masters, Quinton is being hunted down by another vampire masters puppets, only this one comes in the face of a sweet little devil that could be the answer to everything, or finally take him to his grave.
Tike’s head shook very small, slowly, “Fuckers don’t know shit.”
Quin smiled slightly, “Tike, you here to kill me?”
“That, or bring you in, Master isn’t fussy.”
‘Course not, they weren’t stupid. Just arrogant, which amounted to the same thing, but they had to have wondered why Quintus had done this. Why one of his Masters most loyal would rip his trachea’s out with his claws when law was spoken that the kin would die without their master. He’d not cared either way as they laughed as if what he was saying was nothing. Arrogant was believing you control a human being just because you say so. Arrogant that you can train said human to be a killing machine, but that he won’t use those skills against you even as you tell him all the things he hasn’t go in life.
Arrogant that makes you cocky, and sloppy, and always, leads you to your death. It’s not greed that kills you, it’s your arrogant that has you believing that you deserve it, and because you hold it, it means it’s yours and no one else is ever going to think about taking it off you like you took it off another.
“Vampire,” Tike’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, stupid to fall into them when he’s life was in danger this way, but it was hard for him to focus on more than one thing without blood running through his system.
Looking across at the boy Quintus realised that he was bracing himself on his knees, and that his chest was working hard. He was in the final stages of blood loss, soon his body would collapse, or he would attack randomly, though he seemed inclined to think it was going to be the collapse. There was something in him, something deep, which had been bubbling for a long time that wouldn’t let him attack the little man. He didn’t really have an opinion on the matter, it was mute, and therefore not worth thinking about.
Looking across at him know he saw a spark of worry in the leopards eyes that he’d never seen before. Something that indicated the man wasn’t dead inside.
It soothed his soul to know that he was still in there, that his Master hadn’t turned him into a shell housing a killer. This worried him too, ‘cause it wouldn’t last much longer.
“You need to feed,” Tike said his voice plan as usual like he was talking things of not matter, but that spark, that worry… it taunted Quin with his numbering minutes.
“Of little concern,” he muttered with his could be more flippant about the whole deal but he couldn’t straighten. Worse, the others were nearly upon them. He was nearly out of time.
“Tike, you need to know something,” he said, sounding uncannily, frustratingly like those who had been under his foot while he stood over them, waiting for their death by his sword. It irritated him to a point that he nearly shut up. But he was going to die soon, either because this little man was going to take him to his master, kill him himself or he would die at the hands on the werekin that were moments away. Either way he was going to die.
It had to be said.
“Your family…” it was barely a whisper, his throat was closing up. Aching in its dryness.
“Traitor!” was screamed into the clearly, far louder than any of them needed, seeing as a mere whisper would have carried to their ears as if it were shouted across a silent room. “We are here to kill you by brotherly law.” One of the meatheads spoke. They were of the same house as Quintus. He knew them by look, big mean looking idiots. Bodyguards to his Masters. They were all the same, brothers born of the same womb. Their wench of a mother selling the boys off to the vampires when they were mere mutts, just off suckling her teat. She had reasons Quintus remembered, food for her table, and six others pups. The boys were better payment when Master had forgone her cunt.
They were large, taller than Quin’s 6 foot by a good couple of inches. They were exceedingly larger across, with thick thighs and arms heavy of muscle. They were gym babies, the more muscle they could gain the happy they seemed. Which was why they had been ideal as guides, they couldn’t think for themselves in any situation. Foot shoulders that were going nowhere and designed to die on the battlefield. Quintus never saw himself dead before them. He most defiantly hadn’t seem himself die upon there sword.
However, in these days guns would have been the better bet. Seeing as Quin had been inducted into the house by sword he so shall leave.
Which was poetic in a certain way, as that was how he should have died centuries’ ago. If only he’s shoes were upon sand.
A yell of startled pain filled the area around Quin moments before a large, hot, body, pulsing with thick sweet blood. His teeth scrapped across salty skin, before he pieced his way through thick skin and almost leathery cartilage seconds before breaking through the throbbing vein wall of the werekins neck.
The coopery elixir came to life in his mouth, spoke of clean eating and exercise. The after taste, something that reminded Quin of wet dog lasted only the moments from swallow to suck, but gave him the idea of what he was up against when this feeding was finished.
It was like that though, werekins’ blood wasn’t the nicest the drink. Though it gave the best of energy and a long high, it aftertaste was horrible, its own defence against vampires, because it just wasn’t worth the taste that would last for hours. Making him wonder if it was worth it.
When he had gotten all out of the werekin as he could without hanging the man upside down, Quintus allowed it to thump to the forest floor. As he straightened up, letting his muscles stretch after so long behind cramped up, he noticed the fight Tike was having with the three brothers that were left.
Tike looked like a ten-year-old boy against mountains. Almost had a bully ring to it. Comical in a scare that pants off the parent type of way. Quin would have pulled out his phone and filmed it if ‘how to survive 101’ hadn’t been drilled into his head. Like the point about not putting your face on the internet if you couldn’t help it. Though that had been said threw the later year training that was almost mandatory for all otherkin—or paranormal as this time like to calls them—to go to every century. But it wasn’t any different than the times before the internet, don’t get your photo taken, ported on a sidewalk, painted. Nothing that showed you were ever there to begin with.
In height, the little man sat just below the men’s tits. Quintus knew this from the times he had seen them before this incident. Now, as they were all ready for battle, he had a smaller quality to them. Each of the brothers held a short sword in there right hand, and a dagger in there right. Obviously, they hadn’t packed anything else for this hunt, as they didn’t have to go old school for Tike, only Quintus.
Tike on the other hand was free hand, he was also in a half shift, his weight rolled onto his toes, though Quin wasn’t sure about his feet claws and those boots, maybe Tike had even more control of his body than Quintus had ever seen another werekin to hold.
Fuck that thought was hotter than anything else Quin had ever thought, and there had been a time or two that he’d had Tike spread out on his bed ready and waiting for Quintus. Only in his mind, and only as a distant memory as he work with a fist full of seamen.
His fingers were slightly curved in, thick dark nails sprouted out of the tops, making deadly and accurate weapons. His arms were covered in thick light brown with white spotted hair. His face had sharpened like his leopard, a snot whiskers, and deadly teeth all ready to use. Soft ears lay back on his head where his hair had followed down his back. His shoulders a little thicker, more defined as his beast pushed close to the surface of the boy.
Blood already marred the brother’s bodies. A sliced up leg on one, a lower abdomen on the other, the slight tang of bowel fluids floated through the air, telling of deep puncture wounds.
One of the brother, Quintus didn’t know which one, never cared to know their names more than to be able to call on of them if needed. They were all similar it didn’t really matter anyway. Sliced his sword at Tike. Another used the boy’s avoidance to bring his own up, cutting the little man across his right shoulder blade. Tike hissed as only a cat could but managed to lessen the blow.
Quintus saw red. His vision pooled down to a dot. One that had a large stupid wolf in its sight. He was moving before he had even a thought to. Thanks to the shifter blood running threw his veins. He was vicious and aggressive when his hands filled with hot meaty flesh. Blood that pulsed under flesh soon flew out, as teeth and his own claws ripped apart the unsuspecting wolf. It was stupid for them to turn their backs on him. Stupid to think that he was nothing. It was why they were nothing but guards when he was an assassin. Their goal only what was in front of them.
Everything else happened in a blur of moments, teeth, and claws. Grows and grunts of agony, bodies played between him and Tike, each and every one of them trying there hardest to stay alive. But in the end only one could win and Quintus was not losing to meat headed wolves. Nor was he letting Tike fall to the same foe.
In the end it didn’t matter, Tike and Quintus far outmatched the wolf brothers.