Chapter 1
ONLY 18+ SEXUAL CONTENT MATURE READERS ONLY
SOME LIGHT BONDAGE, SOME KNIFE PLAY, SOME PHONE SEX. SEX AND A BIT OF BLOOD DRINKING, HEY ITS HARD WORK A VAMPIRE HAS TO HAVE A TOP-UP HERE AND THERE! KEEPS A GUY GOING...AGAINST THE WALL, IN THE BED, HECK ALL KINDS OF PLACES AND POSITIONS. OH AND SOME INJURIES. THEY ARE FIGHTERS AFTERALL. NOTE, NO ONE GLITTERS WHEN THEY GO OUT IN THE SUN. THEY GO, POOF ... ASH! ORIGINAL WORK AND PART OF A SERIES. THIS IS A FIRST DRAFT I HAVE NO EDITOR SO PARDON ANY MISTAKES. I MAY HAVE GOTTEN A BIT EXCITED AT TIMES...SO MIGHT YOU :-) HAVE FUN!
Nehero
The huge four-poster bed crouches against the wall, it is big…big enough to house a sorority party in actually. The room is wrapped in darkness, it is silent and peaceful. The sudden screeching from the bedside clock is most unwelcome. The large male hand that snakes out to beat the thing into silence is effectively communicating the piss off I’m still asleep sentiment. The clock is Nehero proof. Albert the butler had made sure to have the clock encased into a steel casing to protect it from Nehero’s I’m not in the mood to get up so shut the fuck up beatings. Nehero is so not an early-evening person. Giving up Nehero levels a disgusted look at the insistent clock. He shoves up to a sitting position and leans over to grab the power cord. Giving an evil grin he yanks it good and hard. The thing rips from the wall and he is grateful for the silence returning to his room. He hates that clock. He stretches his big body rubbing a sleepy hand over his face.
Half asleep still, he manages three steps to the bathroom before blood hunger slams through him. Agony tears through him and his legs give way. Slumping on the ground, he curls into a pathetic ball, desperately pulling strength and training together to force his hungry body under control. Dry heaving, he yanks up his wrist. Cannibalising himself will buy him a little time, but it is not a good idea especially not when he is as starved as he is. Nehero curls around his wrist holding on in a mindless stupor.
Time has no meaning, he has no idea how long he has been laying on the floor like some pathetic pissy. Pull yourself together man. Get with the program. Get up. Go have a shower. Get out of the mansion before any of the brothers find out how bad it is. The pep talk seems to help. Nehero pushes up from the floor, dizzy but up on his feet. He heads for the shower again. He has a lot to do. Last night shit hit the fan. Alex got caught on camera killing a human. His face is plastered all over the news. Last night Nehero was too angry to talk to Alex. He would have killed Alex, the brother has a problem. Fuck he should have known, seen it at least. Goldilocks got him packed and out of the mansion in record time. Stashed him with The Brotherhood in London. Out of Nehero’s reach so he thinks, but the minute Nehero gets time he’s gonna kill that SOB.
Nehero leans against the shower wall, and his muscles twitch. His body feels heavy too dense to hold up. The water runs down his back it is as hot as possible, but he feels cold and empty. It has been that way for quite some time now. Nehero sighs deeply letting the air deep into his lungs. Shrugging his shoulders, he steps under the spray again letting it hit him in the face. Grabbing the shower gel, he makes quick work of washing his body and his hair. He needs to feed no matter how much he would like to forgo that particular hell. Nehero wraps a towel around his hips. The muscles in his shoulders flex with each move. He is a large male; his dark hair hangs down past his shoulders. Green eyes stare back at him from a face that is masculine and by all accounts beautiful, 5 o’clock beard stubble shadow his strong square jaw. Nehero has no illusions about his appearance, he knows he is a handsome Male; he attracts women, but only the dark ones. The ones that recognize a dangerous predator and want to be his supper. Nehero runs a razor over his cheeks and chin before grabbing a fresh set of black cargo pants and a muscle-hugger T-shirt from his closet. Pulling on a pair of steel-toed boots, he grabs his coat and heads out the door to the command center.
The sound of his brethren’s voices is so very familiar and yet so very unwelcome at this point, but unavoidable. Concentrating on staying upright, he heads for his chair. The black leather whispering as he finds a comfortable spot to park his ass. Nehero is supremely glad that he has managed to stay upright and hopefully, he can keep the pretense up long enough to fool Goldi.
