Vampire Fight Club

was conceivable that the land could be claimed in the name of Sheoul—or hell, as humans called it.

The very idea was horrifying, but right now Nate was having trouble concentrating on anything but the female in front of him. He was so aroused, so on fire that he expected to see smoke from the friction of his clothes on his skin. Finding her with that asshole vampire, their relationship so familiar, hadn’t helped. Nate had wanted to destroy the male, deliver his fangs to Vladlena on a necklace, and then rut with her on the very ground where he’d won the battle.

And wasn’t that sexy. He nearly rolled his eyes. Damned jungle had turned him into a caveman.

Running with the caveman thing . . . he got all testosterone-buzzed at the sight of her wearing his gift. It might be a mere stethoscope, but she’d accepted his offering, and for some reason, it made him want to beat his chest and drag her into his lair. Instead, because a sliver of civility had pierced through the jungle haze, he gripped her shoulders and pushed her against the wall. She didn’t protest. Not that he expected her to; the scent of her desire filled the room with her special perfume, ratcheting up his need even more.

But ultimately, this wasn’t about his desperation to get between those toned thighs. This was about saving her from an excruciating death on an altar—a death he was tasked to be responsible for.

No, he couldn’t profess that he didn’t want this for himself—he’d been unnaturally obsessed with Lena since she walked into his office. Even her virginity should have been a turnoff. He’d avoided virgins like their veins ran with holy water instead of blood. But in Lena’s case . . . damn. A purr vibrated his chest at the thought of being her first, of laying claim to her the way no other male had.

Of taking her for his own and keeping her.

Except that couldn’t happen. This would be a one-time thing, because if Fade even suspected that Nate wanted her, she was dead.

Or worse, if Fade found out that Nate had been the one to take her virginity. And Nate was well aware that there could be worse.

Shoving that thought out of his mind, he cupped the back of her head and lowered his mouth to hers. Again, she didn’t fight him. In fact, she opened for him, her hands coming down on his ass to pull him closer. He was already hard—hell, he’d been hard for days—and her soft belly cradled his aching erection with just enough pressure to be considered torture.

Man, he wished he could take his time with her, could ease her into her first time, but the clock was ticking, and when this particular hourglass ran out, so would her life.

Inhaling raggedly, he palmed her fine ass and lifted her so her legs were around his waist and his cock was in contact with her core. They both groaned at the sensation, and as he slid her up and down while rocking into her, her groan turned into a soft cry of pleasure. He spun toward the exam table, because while he couldn’t seduce her properly in a soft bed, he could at least make sure her first time wasn’t against a wall or on the floor.

“Need to be inside you,” he murmured against her lips. “Need to make you scream my name.”

“Yes,” she breathed. Her back arched, and her hot center rubbed him so perfectly, so sweetly, he damn near came right then and there. “Wait . . .” In his arms, she stiffened. “No. I can’t.”

“You don’t have any patience.” He nipped her jaw, then licked the tender skin there. He couldn’t wait to be at her throat, taking her inside him as he moved inside her.

Her palms flattened against his chest, and before he could put her on the table, she writhed hard enough to make him lose his grip, and her feet hit the floor. “I’m not having sex with you.”

“Yes,” he said roughly, “you are.”

He seized her by the waist and hauled her against him, one hand going to her scrub bottoms’ drawstring. The storm of lust gathering inside him intensified, a raging force of nature fueled by the residual stir of the jungle, unquenched thirst for Lena, and a carnal instinct to possess the female he’d had in his sights for days.

Lightning fast, she hauled off and slapped him. “Release me.” She didn’t wait for him to obey. With a surprisingly vicious stomp on his foot, she threw herself backwards, crashing into the supply tray and knocking metal instruments everywhere.

She didn’t get far. “Dammit, woman!” He caught her around the torso and pinned her between his body and a cabinet.

Son of a bitch. This couldn’t have gone worse, but it was too late to turn on the charm, and he knew it. He’d never forced a female in his life, and he wouldn’t cross that line now. But he’d do what he had to in order to save her life. Steeling himself for her response to what was going to be the most dickheaded thing he’d ever said or done, he wrapped his fingers around her throat and bared his fangs.

“You’ll sleep with me, or you’re fired.”

Her throat convulsed beneath his fingers and her eyes shot wide open. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Fuck or flee. Your choice.”

She began to tremble, and gods, he felt like a bastard. “You . . . asshole.”

“Guess that’s your answer.” He released her and stepped back. “Pack your shit, turn in your uniform, and never come back to this place. Do you understand me, Lena? Never, ever return.” He wheeled around and yanked open the door, stopping when a miscellany of medical supplies pelted his back.

“Go to hell, Nathan.” She beaned him with her stethoscope, which fell to the floor next to his feet, sprawled like a dead snake. “Go. To. Hell.”

Not a problem, he thought, as he exited the office. He was already there.

Chapter 8

Vladlena stood in the medical office like a dolt, stunned to the core. Dangling from her fingers were the set of keys she’d lifted off Nate when she’d realized what he wanted from her and how serious he was about getting it.

What didn’t sit well with her was the sickening knowledge that had she been able to have sex with him, she would have. He wouldn’t even have had to threaten her. She’d have been his for the taking.

Gods, she was an idiot.

She looked around at the supplies scattered on the floor, some of them a result of her clumsiness, some from hurling them at Nate. How could he have turned into such a coldhearted bastard like that? The answer smacked her upside the head with a big, fat, duh-stick. What else had she expected from someone who was most likely pitting fighters against each other in death matches?

The reality was a welcome cold fist to the solar plexus. Anger and hurt collided, but panic quickly overshadowed the mix. She was out of time. If she didn’t find the fight club now, she never would.

Eschewing stealth, she crossed the dance floor, stalked down the hall to Nate’s office, and knocked loudly. No answer. She tried the door. Unlocked. So she didn’t need his keys after all.

She placed them on the desk, but before she did anything stupid, she made a quick call to Underworld General and left a message with the triage nurse. After hanging up, she tripped the secret door. It swung open with no more sound than a whisper of air, revealing exactly what she’d both hoped and dreaded to find; a passageway.

She took one deep, bracing breath, and started down the stairs.

At the base, she became aware of her surroundings, that they were nothing but a cold, claustrophobic tunnel of cement and stone. As she walked, the sound of cheers rose up, growing louder, until she couldn’t hear herself think, but she could definitely feel her stomach churning.

It was real. It was all real, and Nate, that . . . that . . . dick . . . was smack dab in the middle of it all.

Rounding a corner, she caught sight of an opening ahead. A mass of bodies blocked her view of whatever was beyond, but if the snarls, growls, and grotesque wet thumps were any indication, she’d found the fight club. Unwelcome visions of her brother being in the middle of all this assaulted her brain, and she squeezed her eyes closed and halted for just a moment.

Get it together . . .