Mate With Me

  Mate With Me

  by BJ Wane

  ISBN: 978-1-942331-06-3

  A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication

  Copyright © 2014, All rights reserved

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers.

  For information contact:

  Pink Flamingo Publications

  www.pinkflamingo.com

  P.O. Box 632 Richland, MI 49083

  USA

  Chapter One

  Damien LaRue slowly, somewhat reluctantly, descended the wide stairway of his antebellum home. From the sounds of it, the mating ceremony between the latest of his brethren lucky enough to have found his mate had already begun. It wasn’t because he begrudged his friend and comrade his happiness that he had put off making an appearance tonight, it was simply a desire to save himself the stark reminder that he would not claim his own mate or the pleasure he knew he could find with her. Hushed voices and soft cries greeted him as he stopped at the double wide doorway that led into what used to be a grand ballroom. The huge, ornate room with its wall of French doors, glittering chandeliers and old world elegance had once hosted cotillions and balls for the wealthy and elite of Louisiana, had held election parties for political candidates whose influence and legislation still lived on even though it has been decades since their passing. The Civil War put an end to that era as assuredly as Isabelle had put an end to his life the way he remembered it.

  Shoving aside his melancholy, he leaned against the doorway and watched the end of the mating ceremony between Beau and his mate, Emma, taking place on the small raised platform at the front of the room. It was only at gatherings like this that the ballroom got used anymore and right now the comfortable seating groups around the dais were taken by the members of his brethren that were mated. Having a penchant for bondage, Beau had Emma strapped down on a padded bench, her bare body glistening with oil, her nipples standing erect, her legs splayed for all to see how much Beau excited her. Her denuded labia already sported the telltale gold loop piercing that labeled her taken and off limits to any brethren who was still unmated. Of the fifteen of them that bore a crescent shaped, red birthmark on their right palm labeling them one of a chosen few who could survive the transformation from human to vampire without eventually going mad, there were only five who hadn’t claimed that one woman who not only bore a similar mark somewhere on her body but whose mark responded to the nearness of her mate as only those destined to be together did.

  Damien watched Beau step between Emma’s legs, stroke her soft flesh from her neck down over her quivering breasts then underneath her to cup her buttocks. Lifting her, he sank his cock into her pussy in one smooth stroke, her welcoming cry getting drowned out by the congratulatory applause that erupted in the large room.

  Damien joined in, smiling at his long time friend’s pleasure and good luck. The now ten mated couples all knew first hand not only the exalted pleasure that could be found with one’s true mate, but the males finally knew the pleasure of coming into their full strength and power, enabling them to take on even more challenges against their fight against evil. He hoped Jacob, Mason and the twins, Jon and Luc, were all lucky enough to find their mates soon, thus completing their circle. Even though his own body had found and welcomed his mate years ago, Damien had no intention of claiming her. Once the remaining four come into their full power, he would seek the dawn as his final atonement for his sins. After all, if it hadn’t been for his cowardice and his lack of control, these men would not have been sought out and changed by Isabelle and the horrendous death of an innocent woman would not be on his conscience even now, almost two hundred years later.

  “Damien! Quit scowling and join us,” Luc called out from where he sat at a table with Jacob and his brother, Jon.

  Damien took a seat, smiling in actual pleasure when Beau increased his thrusts, making Emma cry out in climax. “It’s a good match,” he said as he leaned back in his chair and tried to ignore the decidedly noticeable lack of strength in his body. If he didn’t pay a visit to Marie soon, he would be of no help to his brethren when out on patrol. Since their strength and power was enhanced by sex, twofold if it was with one’s mate, they fucked frequently. He, on the other hand, tended to wait until his body was almost depleted before seeking out Marie, a longtime acquaintance who has been seeing to his needs for almost thirty years. He knew some of his brethren liked variety before finding their mate, but ever since discovering three years ago that Abrielle was his mate, he has been reluctant to seek his pleasure with anyone except Marie, and he now sought her out only when he absolutely had to.

  “If you’re happy for them, why don’t you show it?” Jacob eyed his best friend with worry clouding his green eyes. He noticed the signs of Damien’s depleted state, the slower movements and drawn look, and knew he was going to have to browbeat him into going to Marie again soon. They all knew Abrielle was his mate, yet none of them knew why Damien refused to bond with her. Jacob had seen the differences in both of them the past few years and it was obvious that she not only wanted Damien, she knew what he was and had no problems with the fact the man she was so attracted to was a vampire. For himself, Jacob would give anything to find his other half, the one woman who could make the endless years ahead of him worth sticking around for.

  “Sorry, I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well,” he drawled. Since they slept like the dead, literally, they laughed and relaxed, letting him slide by once more without explanation. “Mason’s a no show again tonight?”

  “Yeah. That son of a bitch sure has been elusive since moving into town. Still don’t get why he wanted to leave the estate before he hooked up with a mate,” Jon said, smiling when Emma shouted out with yet another climax, this time Beau joining her as he culminated their fucking with a few hard thrusts, his head thrown back as he erupted in pleasure so intense they who haven’t had the experience with a mate could only imagine.

  “I’ll have a talk with him, see if there’s something going on I need to know about or can help with.” As their leader, the one who had inadvertently put each of them in Isabelle’s path but who had also rescued them from her powerful hold, it was Damien they usually sought out when struggling with the problems that arose with their long existence or need for blood to survive.

  When he and Jacob had arrived too late to save the twins from being converted by Isabelle, they had taken advantage of her bloodsucking distraction, coming at her from opposite sides, wielding their titanium, eight inch blades with precision and strategically aimed cuts. Jacob had only been turned a year, but he was still grieving for his past life, grief that fueled his rage and lent an added viciousness to his attack. By the time she was lying helpless on the ground in the yard of Jon and Luc’s Texas ranch, she was bleeding out from numerous severed major arteries. Neither one of them was of a mind to be merciful, so, knowing she was too weak to teleport or dematerialize, they left her to perish by the hellish heat from the rising sun, an appropriate sentence for one who was so evil.

  For the last one hundred and forty-eight years Damien has been able to focus his energies on uniting the fifteen men who bore the mark that told Isabelle they could survive being turned without going mad within a year of conversion. After celebrating her death, they had sworn a pact to do good with the gifts being undead gave them, their goal to make amends for all the evil Isabelle had unleashed during her long reign of terror. Most of them have scattered, taken their mates and made their homes in places that suited them, moving every twenty or thirty years to avoid any suspicions when they didn’t age. There remained
only the four of them and Mason who still resided in Louisiana. Jacob and the twins still lived with Damien on his private plantation nestled deep in the marshes of the bayou that has been his family home since he and his parents fled France in 1789 in fear of their lives. Being of the aristocracy, they knew it was either give up their homeland or give up their lives.

  As Beau released Emma, everyone started to get up and mingle. “You up for patrol tonight?” Jacob asked as the twins, Jon and Luc went to offer their congratulations to the couple.

  “I’m fine,” Damien replied tersely, hating the way the others hovered over him.

  Jacob didn’t flinch from the anger in Damien’s dark brown eyes. “Don’t snap my head off. You know Mardi Gras always brings out the crazies. We’re going to have to be on our toes for the next week.”

  Decades ago, they all had agreed to do what they could to keep their cities safe. It seemed the best way to not only keep in touch as they slowly scattered, but to put to good use the special abilities their transformation gave them. Longevity gave them the time to amass wealth, so none of them were in need of money.

  “Yeah, I know,” Damien answered on a sigh, knowing he was going to have to make a stop at Marie’s so he could ‘tank up’, as they jokingly referred to it when they were in need of sex to boost both their energy and powers. “You still fucking those two best friends?”

  “I was there all last night.”

  “You don’t sound happy about it.” A lot of his brethren, Jacob included, had families when Isabelle made sure they didn’t survive whatever had befallen them. Families they had to watch age and die, families they could no longer be a part of, interact with or even be seen by. Jacob had been engaged and now wanted nothing more than to settle down with his chosen mate.

  “They scratch an itch, provide a necessary service, that’s all. There’s no…connection.”

  Both of them eyed the couples congratulating Beau and Emma, noted how the men constantly touched their mates, all of whom were either naked or barely clothed, making that necessary skin to skin contact easier. The pleasure that could be seen reflected on their faces went beyond the physical, sexual stimulation that kept their strength and powers elevated and it was that deep commitment that Jacob craved more than anything else, which was why he didn’t understand Damien’s refusal to take what was given to him and run with it.

  “You’ll find her,” Damien told him even though he had no idea if that was true. According to the book he had found while tearing apart Isabelle’s chamber in a fit of rage, they would each find their mate when the time was right.

  “Yeah, so the prophecy says, but when?” The one hundred and fifty year anniversary of his ‘death’ was coming up, and it had been a long century and a half for Jacob who had spent his first decade as a vampire mourning the loss of his fiancé and the promise of their future together.

  “I don’t know, Jacob, but until then let’s both congratulate Beau and Emma.”

  They were halfway across the room when Damien was stopped by Gideon, his mate, Ava, at his side, her pierced nipples prominent pinpoints, the gold loop piercing her labia clearly visible through a sheer, gauzy skirt, the only garment she wore. “Got a minute, Damien? It’s important.”

  “Sure. Let’s step outside.” Turning to Jacob, he added, “Tell Beau I’ll visit with him in a few minutes.”

  Damien opened the nearest French door that led out to a tiled veranda that overlooked the large two acre lawn. The full moon lent enough light to see the well maintained gardens and to make out the distinct shape of the Spanish moss covered trees that decorated the banks of a large pond at the far end of the property. Beyond that, the night sounds of the bayou echoed in the sultry, spring night air. The musical cadence of birds, crickets and frogs could be heard over the soft sound of rushing, gurgling water. Damien smiled when a roar that could have only come from Tasha, one of his beloved Bengal tigers, rent the air and drowned out all other sounds for several seconds.

  “She’s mad about something,” Gideon remarked as he pulled Ava in front of him and set her hands on the wrought iron rail separating the veranda from the grass.

  “Micah must be encroaching on her territory. They’ll work it out.” Damien had spent a lot of time with the large cats during his five year hiatus in the rain forests after first fleeing from Isabelle’s fortress. Discovering one of the perks of being a vampire was a special rapport with tigers, he had become fond of the species and when he had heard of two tigers who were being sorely mistreated in a small traveling circus, he had wasted no time rescuing Tasha and Micah and making sure their owners were too scared of him and the threat of what he was to ever replace them. His original intention, after nursing them both back to health, had been to find a sanctuary or zoo for them to live out the remainder of their lives, but they had settled in to the bayou, enjoyed the close proximity to water, the sufficient cover and trees they required and the abundance of prey that wandered onto his property.

  Damien watched without qualm as Gideon absently ran his hands up Ava’s waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs grazing her turgid nipples in an absent minded caress that nonetheless had Ava shifting against him. “What’s bothering you, Gid?” He always knew when something was troubling one of his brethren, and Gideon had a very troubled look on his face.

  “This is what I miss about your place, Damien, the peacefulness away from the chaos.”

  “It’s Mardi Gras. We’ll have more chaos in the next few days than you’ll see all year in Columbus,” he returned dryly as he waited for Gideon to tell him what was bothering him.

  Chuckling dryly, Gideon conceded the point. “True.” Turning his gaze away from the moonlit scenery, he couldn’t disguise the worry in his eyes or his voice as he said, “Last week there was a murder of a young college girl. Her body was found in an alley, drained of blood and mutilated. Just like….”

  Damien held up a forestalling hand. “She’s dead, Gideon. Jacob and I left her in a pool of blood and the sun peaking on the horizon. There was no way she had the strength to teleport or even dematerialize before the sun turned her to ash.”

  For centuries Isabelle Sartre had terrorized Europe by turning rogues loose at night to wreak havoc and murder amid the countryside. The only time she ventured from her stone fortress in the Carpathian Mountains was to find more victims to turn into mindless, bloodsucking rogues eager to do her bidding, fuck her as often as she wanted until the madness started to take them over. Once a rogue showed signs of insanity, she simply staked them, watched them turn to dust and replaced them with a new victim. Until she had turned Damien at the Battle of New Orleans in 1815.

  “I saw the body, Damien. That poor girl looked just like victims of rogues. I know, I know,” he admitted when Damien started to argue again, “she’s dead and there’s never been any sign or indication that there are any more master vampires, but I can’t help but be concerned. I’ve, we all, have a lot to lose.” Bending his head, he kissed Ava’s cheek, his hands kneading her soft breasts, breasts he never got tired of touching, even after more than twenty years together.

  “Do you need me, Gideon?” Ava asked softly, turning her head to look up at him. She knew how worried he has been since that murder last week.

  “Always. You know that.”

  Ignoring the small twist of envy churning in his gut at their shared look of intimacy, Damien said, “I’ll check with the others, see if anyone else has heard of a similar death in their area. If so, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  Nodding, Gideon replied simply, “Thanks.”

  Shutting the door behind him as Damien returned to the ballroom, he saw Gideon bending Ava over the rail, lifting her flimsy skirt and sinking his cock into her swollen pussy. Ava’s cry heralded her climax, but he knew she’d have several more before Gideon found his own release. He couldn’t help but picture himself in a similar position, Abrielle in front of him, her soft, wet pussy clutching his cock in spasmodic release, couldn’t help b
ut imagine the pleasure he knew awaited him in her willing body, couldn’t help but long to hear her voice crying out in orgasm, just as he couldn’t prevent the picture of a young peasant girl lying dead under him, her body drained of blood, her face slack with the pleasure she had achieved before he had killed her. He would never forget the malicious, gloating look on Isabelle’s beautiful face or the knowledge that she had set him up. Isabelle was dead, she had to be dead, because if she wasn’t there was no way in hell he was meeting the dawn until she was.

  New Orleans, with its colorful history of death by fire, torture, suicide, murder, disease and execution, was the perfect city for the undead. At least Damien has thought so ever since he had made his home near the Big Easy after his own death. The Battle of New Orleans may have been the grand finale battle in the war with Great Britain and America’s greatest land victory of that war, but it had been far from his last battle. As he and Jacob made their nightly patrol along the dark and dangerous back streets of the French Quarter, doing what they could to keep the ignorant, but innocent mortal citizens safe, he knew they would never win the war against evil.

  The hordes of people that flocked to the Quarter every night quadrupled during Mardi Gras and here on Bourbon Street was where the most decadent of the debauchery took place, as well as where the most assaults occurred during this festival time. People barely noticed them as they walked among them every night, never knew they were there to keep them safe from those mortals bent on causing them harm. The history and architecture of the city’s oldest neighborhood drew residents and tourists alike, people who were so immersed in the sight of charming lacy galleries with their cast iron balconies and the ivied walled courtyards of private residences and others who were there for the decadence of the sinful nightlife, partaking of the pleasures to be had in the cabaret/burlesque clubs and various bars, that they were oblivious to the dangers that lurked around every corner.