Stepbrother Blood Lover by Lana Fox Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lana Fox
“Bloody hell” and they’re asking you out.
But after Darren changed, everything changed.
He was utterly magnetic.
Before the change, he’d always been a perv with me, thinking I didn’t notice. Once too often he’d hugged me with wandering hands, and sometimes I’d even sense him watching me through the keyhole while I undressed. Grossly, I liked all this, and even dreamed about it, touching my clit too often, imagining he’d take me hard. But I also hated liking all this. After all, I didn’t want to be a perv like him. So I pretended I didn’t know his tongue was hanging out. I pretended he wasn’t sexy at all.
Like everyone in Lavender, I knew a lot about pretending. Many folks—my parents included—pretended vampires didn’t exist. Those of us who believed they were real just whispered about them, afraid to speak aloud, as every week, bodies were found drained and friends mysteriously disappeared. Yet we’d rarely grieve for those friends for long, or panic for our own lives—looking back, we were incapable of grief or fear when it came to vampires and their kills. Of course, that’s how the vampires wanted it. See, in spite of these deaths, we still went out at night, hardly realizing we were their prey. Frankly, everyone in Lavender was vampire-numb.
Of course, looking back now, I can see why.
Another thing I knew from the whisperings in Lavender was that vampires were wildly attractive and were powerful in the sack. But it wasn’t until Darren entered my bedroom that night, completely changed, that I felt the truth of this.
It happened just two years after we’d moved to America. When my bedroom door started to open, I’d just changed into a T-shirt, ready for bed. I was sitting there about to take my sleeping pill and turn off my bedside light, when suddenly there he was stepping into my room.
My jaw dropped. My pill rolled to the floor.
It’s hard to describe in words just exactly how he’d changed. It wasn’t to do with his height, though he did seem taller somehow. It was more to do with his energy. He glowed slightly, like a dimly lit bulb. If you’d walked into a busy bar, he’d have been the first thing you’d see because he’d occupy the space like he alone was in it. He was strong, mysterious, and surging with sexual energy. I stared at him, agog. It was as if he was filled with moonlight, as if his whole body carried something cool inside that belonged to the night. What’s more, his eyes were this alarming color, so powerfully dark, while the pupils at their centers were blacker than black. I could feel them swallowing me up, pulling me in, making my flesh creep hungrily towards his.
“Darren,” I said, “oh God, what happened?”
But really, I knew. My brother was a dead man walking.
He kicked the door shut behind him and the noise made me jump. My pulse beat even harder in my head as he started to walk towards me, saying nothing, just watching me intensely, and it seemed for a moment as if he was my pulse, as if the thumping inside me was coming from him. I felt stalked, preyed on, owned . I longed to give myself to him. I could feel his stare all over me—on my arms, throat, collarbones, and inside my T-shirt where my nipples stiffened, and lower in my knickers where I was so wet that I was ready to be taken. My knees parted of their own accord, aching to reveal my thirsty pussy.
“Helene,” he said, his voice far deeper and richer than it used to be. “Turn off the light.”
Without even thinking, I reached for my bedside lamp, flicked the switch, and plunged the room into darkness.
Darren still glowed. I’m not kidding. And it was as if twice as much power coursed from his body. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, and my cunt felt so heavy, so wet with lust that I writhed in my seat, arching towards him. He stepped in close so he stood between my knees, but I didn’t dare reach up and touch, much as I longed to. He was the one with the power. And that’s
But after Darren changed, everything changed.
He was utterly magnetic.
Before the change, he’d always been a perv with me, thinking I didn’t notice. Once too often he’d hugged me with wandering hands, and sometimes I’d even sense him watching me through the keyhole while I undressed. Grossly, I liked all this, and even dreamed about it, touching my clit too often, imagining he’d take me hard. But I also hated liking all this. After all, I didn’t want to be a perv like him. So I pretended I didn’t know his tongue was hanging out. I pretended he wasn’t sexy at all.
Like everyone in Lavender, I knew a lot about pretending. Many folks—my parents included—pretended vampires didn’t exist. Those of us who believed they were real just whispered about them, afraid to speak aloud, as every week, bodies were found drained and friends mysteriously disappeared. Yet we’d rarely grieve for those friends for long, or panic for our own lives—looking back, we were incapable of grief or fear when it came to vampires and their kills. Of course, that’s how the vampires wanted it. See, in spite of these deaths, we still went out at night, hardly realizing we were their prey. Frankly, everyone in Lavender was vampire-numb.
Of course, looking back now, I can see why.
Another thing I knew from the whisperings in Lavender was that vampires were wildly attractive and were powerful in the sack. But it wasn’t until Darren entered my bedroom that night, completely changed, that I felt the truth of this.
It happened just two years after we’d moved to America. When my bedroom door started to open, I’d just changed into a T-shirt, ready for bed. I was sitting there about to take my sleeping pill and turn off my bedside light, when suddenly there he was stepping into my room.
My jaw dropped. My pill rolled to the floor.
It’s hard to describe in words just exactly how he’d changed. It wasn’t to do with his height, though he did seem taller somehow. It was more to do with his energy. He glowed slightly, like a dimly lit bulb. If you’d walked into a busy bar, he’d have been the first thing you’d see because he’d occupy the space like he alone was in it. He was strong, mysterious, and surging with sexual energy. I stared at him, agog. It was as if he was filled with moonlight, as if his whole body carried something cool inside that belonged to the night. What’s more, his eyes were this alarming color, so powerfully dark, while the pupils at their centers were blacker than black. I could feel them swallowing me up, pulling me in, making my flesh creep hungrily towards his.
“Darren,” I said, “oh God, what happened?”
But really, I knew. My brother was a dead man walking.
He kicked the door shut behind him and the noise made me jump. My pulse beat even harder in my head as he started to walk towards me, saying nothing, just watching me intensely, and it seemed for a moment as if he was my pulse, as if the thumping inside me was coming from him. I felt stalked, preyed on, owned . I longed to give myself to him. I could feel his stare all over me—on my arms, throat, collarbones, and inside my T-shirt where my nipples stiffened, and lower in my knickers where I was so wet that I was ready to be taken. My knees parted of their own accord, aching to reveal my thirsty pussy.
“Helene,” he said, his voice far deeper and richer than it used to be. “Turn off the light.”
Without even thinking, I reached for my bedside lamp, flicked the switch, and plunged the room into darkness.
Darren still glowed. I’m not kidding. And it was as if twice as much power coursed from his body. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, and my cunt felt so heavy, so wet with lust that I writhed in my seat, arching towards him. He stepped in close so he stood between my knees, but I didn’t dare reach up and touch, much as I longed to. He was the one with the power. And that’s