Read an Excerpt
EVERY DARK DESIRE
By Fiona Zedde
KENSINGTON BOOKSCopyright © 2007 Fiona Lewis
All right reserved.
Chapter OneNegril, Jamaica January 24, 1994
In the darkness, something soft and wet slid across Naomi's mouth. Her eyes flickered closed and her mouth opened to receive the sacrament of a stranger's desire. Darkness nuzzled against her body in the canopied bed and skated across the sensitive surface of her skin. A sensation of pain floated down her throat. The pain was slight, but its hidden layer of pleasure made Naomi arch up in the bed in surprise, her lips parted and eager.
She couldn't see the woman's face, only felt bare skin pressed against hers, the fullness of soft breasts, and the rasp of lush pubic hairs against her skin. Fingers swirled closer to her clit, and Naomi moaned. The slow torture made her hips dance across the sheets, undulating against the smooth cotton that was softer than any she'd ever felt before.
"You are so beautiful," the woman, Julia, said against her belly.
Her cool breath sent ripples of desire eddying through Naomi's body. This was what she'd always wanted. The sure caress of another woman, hands settling on her hips with authority and intent, mouth falling on her nipples like cool rain. Naomi moaned and touched the back of Julia's head.
She smelled like jasmine. The scent curled inside Naomi, slipping into her nose, her head, and her body until all of her awareness was focused on this woman makinglove to her in a strange bed.
Julia's thighs fell between hers, widening them, spreading Naomi for the breeze from the open windows to caress her. Then it was Julia's fingers, cool and light, against her aching clit. The fingers strummed over Naomi, played her, until her hips made a bow in the bed and her own fingers clenched in the sheets. Naomi's body was drenched in sweat, swimming in its desire.
Julia smiled down at her, a sweet spreading of lips that was at odds with the wicked things her fingers did to Naomi's pussy. Naomi gasped with surprise at the wave of desire and aching need that lanced through her with each movement of Julia's fingers. Her eyelashes fluttered, the muscles in her belly clenched, and her chest rose and fell with each gasping breath that Julia pulled from her.
Julia stopped smiling. The benevolence peeled abruptly from her face, leaving a visage tight with hunger. Her fingers still moved sweetly inside Naomi, moving with ease in liquid heat, her thumb licked at Naomi's clit until all she wanted was the completion that the waves of sensation promised.
The volcano in her pussy erupted. Molten light danced behind Naomi's tightly clenched eyes as her body jerked on the bed, plucked into ecstasy by Julia's expert hand.
"Now it's my turn."
She barely heard the low whisper, only felt the cool breath on her neck again, then a fire at her throat that was swooning delight and unexpected pain. Naomi gasped. Julia crouched above her, the jasmine scent that was more than her perfume suffocatingly sweet as her bald head nuzzled at Naomi's throat and her mouth settled more firmly on vulnerable flesh. Naomi pushed at Julia's arms, but the woman was an immovable weight above her.
"No!" The lassitude from her orgasm abruptly fell away and she pushed harder. Julia hooked her teeth more firmly in Naomi's throat. Pain ripped through her. "No!" She screamed her denial again, but Julia only moaned, a soft, singing sound of pleasure that raised the hairs on the back of her lover's neck. She grasped Naomi's arms, lifting her up and off the bed as she knelt in the soft mattress, devouring. Blood dripped down Naomi's neck, snaking down her shoulder before falling drop by precious drop to the white sheets. She felt as if she was being drained of everything-life, blood, consciousness. Her head flopped weakly back and still Julia continued to drink her.
"Stop. Please. I don't want this." At least that's what she tried to say, but all she managed was a strangled groan.
Naomi tried to make her arms work, but they were worse than useless. They dangled from her shoulders, dragging against the sheets as Julia suckled from her neck. The sound of her feeding, wet sucking sounds that moments before Naomi had associated with sex, attacked her ears.
This wasn't something that she could stop. This was no longer an act she could say no to. The moment she had walked into this hotel room she had said yes. Her body had screamed it, her breasts whispered it, and her pussy, eagerly salivating for Julia's hand, had given the ultimate permission. Naomi blinked frantically at the ceiling, her eyes already clouding with approaching death ...
Chapter TwoNaomi was dead. She didn't know where the knowledge came from, it was just there. Nothing in the alley moved, nothing inside her moved. She forced herself to take a deep breath. Nothing. A trembling hand rose, then fell with a wet slap against her chest. The cool flesh felt torn and sticky with blood. Her mind flickered back to her last few moments of memory. The laughing yawn of teeth, blood-flecked and merciless. Clawed fingers hooked into the vulnerable skin of her arms. Her rising screams. Then blood trickling over her lips, setting her senses aflame.
The last place she remembered being, the palatial Negril Hotel where her sister worked, with its shimmering blue pool and equally sparkling tourists, was nowhere in sight. Instead, she lay propped up in a stinking alley, made filthier with stagnant gray water, garbage, and the smell of stale piss. The smells overwhelmed her, stinging her nose with their pungency. Only two things were the same. It was dark. And she was naked. Her back shifted against the damp concrete wall, setting off a chain reaction of pain through her entire body. Another set of smells stirred up. Fear. Vomit. Gunpowder. Death. Naomi retched into a pothole until her stomach seized up and cramped. Her limp hands twitched and slapped at her thighs. It was so quiet inside her, so quiet. Even with the agony of her body purging itself, the silence frightened her. No heartbeat. No breath. No pulse to reassure her that she was scared.
Naomi sagged against the wall, whimpering like a beaten dog while her vision swam as she became aware of yet another layer of pain, a scraping rawness that crawled up her throat, settling into her mouth and teeth. Her back jerked away from the wall.
"You all right, girl?"
A hand touched her shoulder and, through her pain-filled haze Naomi grabbed it. And kept grabbing until the person's-a man's-screams joined hers. She buried her pain in his, tore at him until his blood splashed over her in a scarlet wave. The first incidental spill of blood across her lips and tongue lanced fire through her. Suddenly the pain in her body seemed for a purpose. She grasped more tightly at the man and began to bite and suck at his body-his wrists, face, and neck-until he was covered in teeth marks and the only blood left was on his clothes.
The pain disappeared. She pushed the vessel away and it fell in the street like an empty wine gourd. Her body shuddered with its new strength. Naomi wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and stood up. Despite her throat's soreness and the uncertainty of her balance, she felt vital and strong. Her mind didn't bother to grapple with the contradiction.
It was late. She was certain about that. The quarter moon burned against a sky strong with stars, but daylight was close. Something inside her flinched at the knowledge. Beyond her little alley, the street was teeming with traffic. People on foot, in cars, on motorcycles and bicycles. She could smell them. Their scent was so different from her own, like soft-fleshed fruit whose juice made her tongue swell and water. She made herself turn away from the contemplation of her next meal.
The odor of the city and its thick traffic so late at night told her that she was inland and miles away from Julia's Negril Hotel. So her mother had been right. That was a sin. That's why she was here now, miles away from her mother and her baby. She hoped they were safe in bed at her sister's. Her skin suddenly yearned to touch them, to feel them close. She held on to that desire, needing it to feel connected, to feel human.
Naomi needed clothes. The man's uniform was out of the question. She couldn't very well walk around town wearing a bloody and torn police corporal's uniform. But she couldn't parade around naked either. Naomi compromised by putting on the long undershirt and little briefs that fit her like a bathing suit.
The night was balmy, with winds that teased her new skin like breath. Her hunger was far away now so she was free to feel. Voices reached out at her from the street, raised in greeting, in quarrel, in affection. She wanted that again. She wanted to live again. But right now she wanted clothes more. Naomi stepped out of the alley. A young woman walked toward her, switching her small skirted hips while her breasts moved in a seductive rhythm under her sparkling blouse. Her gaze appraised Naomi's improvised outfit, and apparently found it lacking. The girl cut her eyes at Naomi and brushed past her. Or at least tried to.
"Good evening, sistren," Naomi greeted in a new purring voice.
The woman inhaled deeply as if smelling something particularly sweet; then she smiled. People moved in, ebbing around them, some looking at Naomi with interest, others with sneers. But she wasn't concerned about them. Naomi used the buffeting crowd as an excuse to pull the woman aside and away. The mouth of the alley opened up to receive them.
She had tried to use some patchouli heavy perfume to mask her true womanly scent, but Naomi found it and greedily inhaled it. She was a nice-looking woman. One of those types Naomi had always seen in the streets of town-whether Negril or Ochi-and longed to be. She imagined that women like this didn't obsess about the things that she did, didn't long to touch other women the way that Naomi wanted. This woman's life must be so simple, uncomplicated by forbidden desires and the pain of wanting more than she had.
"Can I have your clothes?" Naomi asked.
"I said," Naomi said, moving even closer, "your clothes are pretty." She touched the woman's blouse, incidentally caressing the swell of breast beneath the cloth. "Can I have them?"
The woman drew a quick breath. Naomi didn't give her a chance to do anything more. She grabbed the woman and swung her abruptly into the wall. Her head connected sharply with the filthy, graffiti-scrawled brick before she could scream. The woman's fear rose up hot and ripe in the alley before she abruptly lost consciousness. She smelled so good. So intoxicating. Naomi tugged off the woman's blouse, and her unbound breasts, brown and soft in the sickly yellow streetlight, had Naomi on her knees with her mouth open before she could stop herself. The unconscious woman's blood smell made her hungry, though she shouldn't have been, and the sight of her nakedness made her wet even though that shouldn't have been either. Naomi abruptly pulled back. No. She would not be like that beast who took advantage of her and made her into this.
She tugged off the woman's skirt, then covered her with the long shirt she discarded. Naomi also left her with the shoes. The boots she had taken from the policeman were better than those fragile stilettos. Even lying in the street, in the shadow of a garbage bin, the woman was still beautiful. Her breasts, the curve of her belly, the thickly pumping blood just beneath her skin made it hard for Naomi to turn away. But she did. She was nothing like the bitch who lured her to death. This was proof of that.
With the stolen woman's clothes on her back and an indefinable need gnawing at her belly, Naomi fled downtown Negril. She moved quickly through the self-herding crowd toward a place, any place, that could quiet her raging mind. Minutes or hours later, she was on an unfamiliar beach. Naomi wandered down to the sand, past empty stalls with signs advertising FRESH STEAMED FISH and past bits of debris abandoned by the past day's fishermen-an old swimming fin half submerged in the water along with pieces of string and a broken knife handle adrift on the sand. The waves lapped over her toes, foamed and gentle. Her senses swallowed the sea's salt tang and the scent of something else on the breeze.
"You are beautiful."
Her body quieted. But not in surprise. Its surrender to stillness was like a kind of relief. She felt a coolness at her back, then the press of lips against the top of her spine.
"I knew you would make it."
Her body relaxed into the presence, sagged against it. Julia. Her mouth sighed the name. Then anger rose up. She growled and spun to face her killer. In the silvered moonlight, the woman was smaller than Naomi remembered, with velvet midnight skin and a slightly paler mouth, molten brown eyes, and a bald head. Julia looked blameless and completely absent of sin as she lay under Naomi's snarling ferocity.
Then she smiled. "Come on, do it. You need to."
Her jasmine scent reached up to wrap itself around Naomi, enfolding her in its sweet embrace. She wanted to taste her skin, to break it and slip inside her until this unsettled feeling was gone. Naomi growled again. She needed to drink more of the fervid blood Julia had fed her in their shared bed. The new vampire slammed the woman into the sand and mounted her unresisting body.
Julia bared her throat. "This is what you want."
Her blood was ambrosia. Spicy. And hot. It flooded into Naomi's body in a rush, washing her with power and joy. Under her, Julia chuckled, encouraging her to take more, to suck until she was full. "I fed well tonight, just for you."
Naomi intended to feed well too. She pulled deeply at the soft flesh under her mouth, her body unconsciously undulating over Julia, until the pleasure from her feeding and the tingles of arousal tripping across her flesh were one and the same. Julia's hand clenched in her hair, alternately pulling and pushing at Naomi. Soft gasps tumbled from the vampire's open mouth. Because she could be nothing else, a leech who fed on blood and secret desires. Naomi had seen enough American television to know.
Julia's legs widened and Naomi's thigh easily fell between them and curled up until it slid against the slippery slit under the dress. Her own body burned brushfire hot. Still sucking, she pulled at her own blouse, ripping away the stolen clothes in her haste to be naked, to find a relief from the heat building inside her. A cooling breeze rippled over her naked skin, but still she burned. Julia's gasps grew louder with each pull of Naomi's mouth and press of her thigh. The new vampire's hands tightened. Julia's orgasm jetted more blood into Naomi's open mouth, but still she couldn't stop. The smaller woman began to fight her, to push at her shoulders, pull her heavy hair, and even buck under Naomi's heavier body. She started to make desperate mewling noises.
Naomi ignored her and sucked harder. Then something plucked her from her feast and sent her sailing through the air. She landed in the sea with a massive splash, and a different salty wetness filled her open mouth. Naomi choked and tried to catch her breath before she remembered that she didn't need to breathe anymore.
"Stop means stop, puppy. You don't want to kill her, do you?"
Naomi looked up from her sprawl in the water and flipped her heavy wet hair out of her face.
"She's dead already anyway," she said.
The vampire who'd spoken looked down at her with contempt, then shook her head, turning back to the slight woman still whimpering in the sand. This beast was even taller than Naomi, quite an accomplishment since at almost six feet she'd always been considered ridiculously tall by most.
"And you," she said, reaching down to help Julia stand up. "Why did you give this thing your blood? You should have drained it and left it to die."
"But, Silvija, she-"
Julia's head snapped back from the force of the giant's sudden slap. She rocked back on her heels with a blossom of blood appearing abruptly at the corner of her mouth, but she did not fall. Silvija's grip on her collar saw to that. Naomi watched them for a moment before dropping back into the water with a splash. She felt divine.
Excerpted from EVERY DARK DESIRE by Fiona Zedde Copyright © 2007 by Fiona Lewis. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.