Tegan’s Power
Book Four in the Ultimate Power Series
By L.H. Cosway
Copyright © 2013 Lorraine McInerney
All rights reserved.
Cover picture by Mayer George.
Cover design by RBA Designs.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Books by L.H. Cosway
YA Paranormal Romance
A Strange Fire (Florence Vaine #1)
A Vision of Green (Florence Vaine #2)
Urban Fantasy
Tegan's Blood (The Ultimate Power Series #1)
Tegan's Return (The Ultimate Power Series #2)
Tegan's Magic (The Ultimate Power Series #3)
Tegan’s Power (The Ultimate Power Series #4)
Crimson (An Ultimate Power Series Novella)
Contemporary Romance
Painted Faces
The Nature of Cruelty
Still Life with Strings (Coming 2014)
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Author’s Note
Dear readers,
Thank you so much for taking this journey with me. We’re almost at the end, but not yet; there’s one final adventure to be had! When I began writing this book I knew that if I wrote it only from Tegan’s point of view there would be something vital missing. From the very beginning Finn has been a character whose voice came very naturally to me and I wanted to let him have his say. In Tegan’s Power that’s exactly what he gets. I won’t say anything more, because I don’t want to spoil any surprises, but I sincerely hope you all enjoy the final instalment in the series.
Yours,
L.H. Cosway.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
- Hamlet by William Shakespeare.
Chapter One
Let Me Be Your Ruler
Tegan
My view of reality is foggy.
I see Ethan standing on the roof of a high building. His body shimmers with a silvery glow and there are hundreds upon hundreds of vampires on the street below, bowing to him as though he’s a miracle made flesh. Their fangs are out and their red eyes are like a sea of crimson lasers.
In my hazy mind my vision expands over the entire city, where it seems like every vampire has sensed Ethan’s change into something else, something extraordinary. Indestructible. No matter where they are, they bow. Some in fear, others in awe.
I can feel it in my blood that’s rushing through his system.
The black chaos mists retreat from the humans, called away by their master, Theodore. He needs to regroup, lay low until he can figure out how to approach Ethan’s transformation.
I hear Ethan’s strong, familiar voice shouting orders. He tells the vampires to rise and face their new leader. His old Romanian accent is more dominant than it had been; the American twang he once affected has almost completely receded.
He speaks but I can’t figure out the words. The vampires stand to attention, taking his orders with renewed enthusiasm, their red eyes staring up at him like he is the ruler they had been waiting for. Gone are the days of the Herringtons, of Jeremy Whitfield and his wars. A new era has begun, and the possibilities are endless.
I’m slumped weakly over the edge of the building, staring down at the vampires who now begin to organise themselves into groups as they clear away the dead bodies and carnage that has drowned the city in a sea of blood and mess.
Some humans are not dead, just unconscious. The vampires leave them where they lie. I wonder in horror how many innocent people were killed tonight.
Arms as hard as steel wrap around me and lift me up. My dizzy head sinks into the crook of Ethan’s neck, my safe place to fall. My energies are vastly depleted from blood loss. He starts to move at vampire speed. Incredible vampire speed even faster than before. I can’t take the whooshing colours, slipping in and out of consciousness.
Then I sleep.
When I wake up my head and my eyes hurt. It feels like I’ve been sleeping for days. I’m lying naked on a bed that’s not my own. Cool Egyptian cotton sheets cover my body as I stretch out my aching limbs.
The windows are wide open and morning light shines into the room. I look around, recognising Ethan’s bedroom in his house on the south side of the city. The house Whitfield had exiled him from.
I sit up, the cotton sheets falling to my waist. Ethan is lounging in his armchair by the bookshelves. His eyes are closed and he’s holding his serene face up to the daylight.
I gasp as the events leading to my being here rush through my head. His eyes open when he hears my sharp intake of breath. Oh wow. They’re incredible. Deep royal blue edged in silver. His blonde hair shines even more so now; his golden olive skin is even more flawless. He stares at me intensely and I can’t tell whether or not I’m safe, whether or not he’s still Ethan, or something else.
“Am I safe?” I whisper and he tilts his head questioningly in response.
“Are you safe?” he repeats back at me, his old accent doing all sorts of hot things to my insides.
A long stretch of silence elapses. I pull the sheet up to cover my chest.
“Well, am I?” I ask uneasily.
“You are safer than you’ve ever been, my love. Do not cover yourself.”
I blush and let the sheet drop again. Ethan stands from his chair and walks toward me. He sits at the end of the bed and runs his hand along the fabric of the sheets.
“How long have I been out for?”
“About a day,” he answers, not lifting his eyes from the sheet. “I imagine you needed the rest in order to recuperate from the substantial blood loss.”
“God. My muscles are all sore.” I stretch one arm up over my head and then the other. “What happened while I was sleeping? Where is everyone?”
He smiles vaguely. “I have not yet located the others. I believe they fear I have changed into a monster and are hiding out. Vampires have been queuing up all the way down the street waiting to speak with me, to pledge their allegiance. I have not yet opened my doors to any of them. They left at daybreak and I went outside in the sun, something I have not been able to do in all my years. It’s unimaginable this gift you have given me, Tegan. You are such a treasure,” he breathes.
I wince. “Don’t call me that. Theodore always calls me his dear little treasure. It makes my skin crawl.”
“I apologise,” says Ethan, raising his magnificent eyes to me now. “You look pale. I want you to take some of my blood. It will restore your strength.”
My mouth waters at the prospect, but I shake my head. “I shouldn’t.”
He moves across the bed with warp-like speed, and now he’s hovering over me. The air thickens and my breathing becomes laboured as my eyes roam his chiselled torso. All he’s wearing is a pair of light denim jeans.
“Your accent has changed,” I comment to distract
myself from his perfect body. “Why is that?”
“You’d prefer me to speak a little more like this, darlin’?” he asks, putting on the American twang I’m used to.
“I don’t mind either way. I was just curious.” Goose pimples prickle at my skin.
“I’ve changed the way I speak over the years to acclimate with the times I live in. Now that I am transformed, I no longer feel the need to disguise my true self.”
“Oh.”
“You once told me you couldn’t resist my Romanian accent,” he says in a low voice, bringing his hand up to run his knuckles along my jaw.
“I can’t. It’s sexy as fuck,” I whimper as he leans closer.
“Where would you like to drink from this time?” he asks huskily.
“I said I shouldn’t.”
“Shouldn’t doesn’t mean you won’t. Choose a spot, Tegan.”
My eyes flicker to the masculine line of his throat. “Your neck,” I answer quietly.
He smiles with approval. “Good choice.”
My attention is drawn to the thumbnail of his right hand, which has grown to a sharp blade-like point. “Is that one of the changes of your transformation?” I ask with trepidation.
“Yes. This nail is the only thing that can cut through my skin.”
Using the nail, he slices a line a centimetre long across the side of his neck. I can practically smell his blood as a trickle seeps out. It’s no longer black like a normal vampire’s, it’s now a silvery red. I lick my lips and bring my hands up to clasp his shoulders. He picks me up effortlessly and sits me astride his lap, fully naked.
Moments later my lips are on his skin and I’m gulping down the sweet nectar that runs through his veins. It’s more like the ambrosia of the Gods now, though. I practically orgasm just from the taste of it.
Ethan groans loudly and his hands move down my spine with delicious pressure. I continue sucking his blood into my mouth, my body coming alive with it. It slides down my throat like liquid magic, igniting everything it touches.
I moan softly, clutching him to me. He feels powerful, addictive, alive.
He slips his hand between my legs, several of his fingers plunging inside me at once. My sharp cry is muffled as I continue to drink.
“You are exquisite,” he whispers to me. “You are my queen. Always.”
His fingers pump in and out of me fast, faster than I would have considered possible. The pleasure is too much and I release his neck, falling back into the pillows and writhing against him. His eyes consume me, taking in every part of me, my every reaction. With his other hand he smears his blood across my lips and his mouth hangs open, bewitched.
“Oh, God, come closer,” I mumble, reaching for the waistband of his jeans.
He does as I ask, allowing me to lower his pants. His erection springs free and he poises himself at my entrance. Foreign words tumble from his lips; I close my eyes and just hear them, feel what they do to me.
Agonisingly slowly, he fills me up. No ordinary man could tease me with such slowness, such attention to detail. He bends over me and sucks my nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it in a frantic, inhuman rhythm, like the wings of a butterfly.
My heads spins with his blood in me, not just regular vampire blood, which is quite the high, but ultimate power vampire blood. Everything in my line of sight sparkles. Psychedelic colours wash away the room, the house, my corporeal form, until I become an entity solely made to be pleasured, to feel.
What was it that the Epicureans used to say? Pleasure is the highest good?
Well, if that’s the case then I’m being really, really good right now.
Ethan fists my hair with his hand, pulling my neck back as his hard length sinks into me again. Then he licks a line directly from the base of my throat to the hollow behind my ear.
“Whatever you want, my love, ask for it. I’m going to fuck you until you feel how much you mean to me, until you understand the gift you have given me, you beautiful, fragile, wonderful little thing,” he mumbles into my skin, his arm tightening around my belly. I feel so small within his hold.
Sweat drips from him and it smells incredible.
Silver clouds my vision. All I can see is the core of him and I’m intrinsically drawn to it. I never thought I would see the day when Ethan and I would make love so freely under the light of the morning sun. It streams through the window and I reach out, touching it like it’s a tangible thing.
Ethan grips my chin as he continues to thrust in and out of me. “All the vampires in this city want me to be their ruler,” he breathes, “but all I care about is being yours.”
The intensity of his words causes me to move my eyes from his, because it’s too much to take.
“Don’t look away,” he pleads. “I need to see your bottomless blue eyes as I fill you.”
Meeting his gaze once more, I don’t look away.
Finn
Holy Mary mother of Jesus, she’s really gone and done it now. I always thought Tegan had a reckless streak, but that was putting it mildly. I don’t think there’s a single word in the English language to describe this madness. Nobody with half a brain would consider it a viable option to allow that bloodsucker to drink from her. And yet, there he stands, unquestionably changed.
Is she even still alive? Did he drink her dry, or take just enough in order to transform?
Now, I understand this was a do or die situation. We’re outnumbered as fuck, for a start. But come on, there’s no going back from this. We all stare up at Cristescu from below, the entire vampire population of the city bowing down to him like he’s some sort of effing high king of the damned.
Something inside of me relaxes when I notice Tegan slumped weakly over the edge of the building, staring at him too. Well, at least now I know she’s not dead.
He roars and every fibre of me is repelled by the sound. I make eye contact with Gabriel first. Like me, my friend knows exactly what has gone down on that roof. In private he has often spoken to me of his fears about Tegan. He worried that one day some power hungry vampire would get his hands on her blood and everything would change. Well, now it’s happened. Only I don’t know if Tegan volunteered herself or if he forced her.
The idea of him forcing her makes me really fucking angry. The hurt I’d felt when she told me she’d slept with him tries to rise to the surface, but I push it back down. She picked him. There’s nothing I can do to make myself feel better other than try to salvage what’s left of my wounded ego.
And, quite frankly, fuck her. Yeah, I may act like everything’s all hunky dory on the outside, but on the inside I’m allowed to be petty and jealous. She led me on. I’m not sure if it was a conscious decision, but still, it hurts to be rejected. Now I’ve learned my lesson not to let a pair of pretty blue eyes make a fool of me ever again.
“We have to get out of here,” says Gabriel with urgency, holding Alvie to him.
“I know, let’s make a move while the vamps are distracted, eh?” I suggest, nodding to Delilah and Ira, who’s standing by her side in his animal form. That Lucas prick is bowing down just like the rest of the bloodsuckers.
Delilah looks shaken to her core, her pale face staring up at her brother in stunned silence.
“Delilah,” I call for her attention. “We have to go now.”
Ira whines and nips at her hand. She finally pulls herself out of her shock and nods rapidly, holding herself in her own arms. She tries to get Lucas’ attention, but there’s no breaking him out of his trance. Finally, she gives up and follows us down the ladder and back out onto the street.
Dead and unconscious human bodies fill the pathways. The five of us walk close together, dodging the bowing vamps. We speed up to a slow jog, needing to get as far away as possible before Cristescu calls them to action. Delilah may be his sister, but he’s no fan of the rest of us – me especially. Who knows what kind of plans he might be concocting.
The city is a wasteland. The only forms of life
to be found are the dead (and yeah, I know that’s technically incorrect since they’re dead, but whatever.) There are some unconscious bodies, too. I can sense people hiding behind locked doors and windows, too frightened to venture outside.
Once we’re clear of the vamps I let out a long breath. We’re close to the more residential areas now, which look completely untouched by the chaos. The quiet, peaceful streets feel almost unreal after the craziness we’ve just been through.
Gabriel pulls Alvie close to him, his arm tight around his narrow shoulders. Ira rubs his nose against Delilah’s hip and she lets her hand drift through his thick fur. All of a sudden, I feel decidedly alone. No partners to comfort me.
Oh well, fuck that shit. I’ve been alone since my mother and sister died. Some things never change. A brief image of Tegan in my arms flashes in my head, my hand down her pants feeling her slickness, my tongue down her throat searching for her tonsils. God, I’d been such a fool to think she actually wanted me. That she’d actually choose me.
Okay, no more self-pity, thank you very much, brain.
I’m tough. I’ve survived a lot worse than a bit of female rejection in my time.
Once we reach the outskirts of the city I decide to begin looking for some form of transportation. Walking isn’t going to get us very far in the long run. A few minutes later I spy an abandoned minivan by the side of the road, the doors open, keys dangling from the ignition. Too good to be true, right? Wrong.
There are several dead bodies littered on the ground outside of it. By the looks of it, they were driven mad by the chaos and killed each other. I stand over a bloated middle aged guy with shaggy red hair, his lifeless head hanging to one side. With the toe of my boot I nudge his shirt collar down, checking his neck for fang marks. None. My suspicions were right, these poor sods killed each other.
“Looks like we’ve found a ride,” I tell Gabriel with a morbid grin.
He shakes his head, unwraps Alvie from his hold and comes to help me shove the dead guy out of the driver’s seat. His throat has been slit and there’s literally blood everywhere. In my line of work, I’m used to it. Still, that doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to sitting in the shit. His slack body drops down onto the hard ground like a bag of wet sand and I find a coat in the back of the van to wipe away most of the blood from the driver’s seat.