Love Immortal

Chapter One-2

THERON FED UNTIL THE raging hunger in him was fulfilled. He felt drowsy with satisfaction as he lifted his lips from the warm, pulsing throat of his prey. The woman lay there on his bed, partially undressed and in the induced trance-like state he had put her under.

He gazed down at her full breasts and lowered his face, rubbing his cheek over one soft mound. A small groan spilled from his lungs as he took a n****e into his mouth, savoring the feeling as it grew rigid under his tongue’s manipulations. He suckled the rosy peak for a good while before switching to the other. He slid his hand along her ribcage and cupped the fullness of her free breast, his fingers kneading the plump flesh.

Theron felt his erection pressing hard against his slacks, throbbing with each quick heartbeat, luring him to take advantage of her pliant body. Instead, he became very still, closed his eyes and inhaled a long, shaky breath that filled his lungs and cleared his head.

Exhaling slowly, he looked up at the ceiling as he took control of his emotions once again. s*x was never as satisfying as a feeding. He knew that while she was in this state he could do what he wanted, and many times he’d taken full advantage of it. Somehow though, over the years, it had become less and less fulfilling. How he yearned for a woman to share in his passion....

Passing a gentle hand over her eyes, Theron commanded her to sleep then rolled off her weakened body. She was only temporarily drained. A few hours of deep sleep would replenish her lost strength. Later he would drive her back down to the city, bid her to forget him, to forget her sorrows, whisper a joyless farewell and return home alone ... just as he always did.

Unfortunately, his lifestyle didn’t allow the luxury of a life mate. He gave an amused laugh. He’d most likely outlive her. Choosing a solitary existence was his decision. One he was comfortable with. Never would he give up the life he had claimed so long ago for feeble things such as love, passion, and a few decades of mortal life.

In one swift movement he was off the bed, readjusting his burgundy silk shirt. He was sated, yet slightly edgy. This was his second feeding from the same body. Tomorrow he would have to start the hunt all over again. A rueful smile slid across his lips as he viewed the sleeping form on his bed. Brokenhearted women were obscenely easy to take. This part of California provided plenty of the melancholy souls to continue his immortal existence here on Earth.

A thought and a glance caused the electric wall sconces by the bedside to flicker and die, enveloping the room in a shroud of blackness. With new vigor in his step he crossed the floor, alive with the particular strength that came with the sacrament. The finest, most pure narcotic of all had rejuvenated him: blood.

Sending a brief image through his mind of the door closing behind him, he stepped across the threshold. Once on the other side, the lock clicked into place without so much as a touch from his hand.

Theron’s senses were still full of the woman. Her scent, the feel of her supple body beneath his, her soft moans of complete surrender as he bit into her neck, his teeth puncturing delicate flesh. Running a tongue over his lips, he savored the traces of her flavor. The essence of life. His life.

Making his way across the large foyer, he went to his study to catch up on the stock market before having to take the woman back to her apartment in the city.

Theron felt the new blood coursing through him with each step he took, feeling infinitely youthful and not even close to his true age. He closed his eyes for a moment in bliss. Being a vampire certainly had its rewards: living forever, infinite power, a whole other plane of existence above the humans of the world.

His expression turned grim. A life such as his also had drawbacks, he reminded himself as he entered the plush room. Having to hunt every other night wasn’t always as easy as he wished it to be. The women were sometimes difficult to locate, even with his keen sixth-sense. Not all victims were as willing as the one he had now, though he always left them in much better condition than when he’d found them—missing a pint or so of blood, but that was easily replenished.

Sighing, he turned on the table lamp and picked up the Wall Street Journal, sat in his favorite overstuffed chair, and hoped that tomorrow’s search wouldn’t prove to be too challenging.

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