Bryn n sinjin 02 5 blo.., p.1
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       bryn n sinjin 02.5 - blood lust, p.1

           H. P. Mallory
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bryn n sinjin 02.5 - blood lust


  BLOOD LUST

  HP Mallory

  Copyright ©2016 by HP Mallory

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  ALSO BY HP MALLORY:

  THE JOLIE WILKINS SERIES:

  Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble

  Toil and Trouble

  Be Witched (Novella)

  Witchful Thinking

  The Witch Is Back

  Something Witchy This Way Comes

  THE DULCIE O’NEIL SERIES:

  To Kill A Warlock

  A Tale Of Two Goblins

  Great Hexpectations

  Wuthering Frights

  Malice In Wonderland

  For Whom The Spell Tolls

  Eleven Snipers Sniping (Novella)

  A Midsummer Night’s Scream

  THE LILY HARPER SERIES:

  Better Off Dead

  The Underground City

  To Hell And Back

  Persephone

  The Bladesmith (Novella)

  THE PEYTON CLARK SERIES:

  Ghouls Rush In

  Once Haunted, Twice Shy

  Big Easy Murder (Novella)

  THE BRYN AND SINJIN SERIES:

  Sinjin

  The Scent

  Blood Lust (Novella)

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  About the Author

  ONE

  Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sinjin Sinclair and this is my story.

  As the following tale belongs to me and we are, as of yet, unacquainted with one another, I suppose the onus is on me to give you a bit of background information regarding yours truly …

  I was born in England. London, to be exact, in 1414. Before your imagination strives to convince you that I am a ghost, a demon, or some equally disagreeable creature, I shall tell you now that I am neither. I owe my immortality to a disease of the blood. That is to say, I am a Master Vampire.

  I imagine that announcement may very well be accompanied by involuntary gasps of shock, or even heart palpitations, so let me please assure you that although I have an appetite for the sanguine, I am also unflaggingly a gentleman.

  Returning to the nature of my title, perchance you find the label “master” slightly mystifying. Allow me to explain …

  In my estimation, the vampire should be divided into two subcategories. For the sake of this dialogue, I shall refer to a “vampire” as a bloodsucker, and the much more estimable “Master Vampire” as his own namesake. The first category, bloodsuckers, are simply creatures who cannot move about in the day, and who enjoy increased speed and strength compared to ordinary humans. Their diet consists exclusively of blood.

  The Master Vampire, in contrast, is much older and much more powerful than his lowly colleague. Like fine wine, vampires ripen with age. We become more powerful, stronger, faster and, in my particular case, more attractive. The passage of time also sharpens our skills and the Master Vampire’s sophisticated powers of persuasion and our ability to materialize and dematerialize at will naturally increase exponentially.

  What specific qualities does a Master Vampire possess? you may ask. If you were to guess age, you would not be entirely correct. Yes, old age naturally develops one’s wisdom and skill in most instances, although there are those bloodsuckers with whom I share my six hundred years who have left me unimpressed, to say the least. Hence, age is not, in itself, a sole qualifier in discriminating a true master from a novice.

  A true Master Vampire receives his laudable title through the vehicles of legend or gossip, for lack of a better description. Any established and/or gifted bloodsucker will begin to earn a reputation for himself. In so doing, he invariably attracts the attention of a Master Vampire, who might adopt the nascent bloodsucker, embracing him beneath his proverbial wing and rearing him, in order to teach him the fine art and practices that belong to the master.

  Such was the path I followed before I found myself in the very enviable position I now enjoy. My title was bestowed upon me by Varick, a true Master Vampire. He was once was my superior and I, his ward. Not so any longer. Now, I answer to no one, save myself and the queen of the Underworld.

  “Sinjin!”

  Ah, yes, and the queen’s noble sister, the lovely Bryn.

  Lest you wonder, Bryn does not share the irresistible desire for fresh hemoglobin with me. That is to say, she is not a vampire, neither master nor bloodsucker. Instead, she calls herself an “Elemental.”

  Now, you may speculate what an Elemental could be, and based upon one’s observation of the Lady Bryn, one could imagine an Elemental as a headstrong individual who inevitably proves quite difficult to get along with. One would also assume that Elementals spend entirely too much time arguing and not enough time following the more Epicurean ideals as demonstrated by myself. Elementals are gifted soldiers, yes, but they are not at all in touch with their sensitive, sensual sides. In conclusion, suffice to say that Elementals are rather shrewish by nature.

  To describe an Elemental based upon the Lady Bryn’s outward appearance, one must admit that Elementals are dangerously attractive. Amply gifted in both the breasts and derriere departments, one might erroneously assume that all Elementals possess a celestial form that is designed to drive any creature of the male persuasion into complete lunacy; or failing that, to idiocy, or worse. Luckily for me, I am unaffected by the Lady Bryn’s charms, although I must confess an uncanny fondness for her breasts. And her posterior.

  Although it pains me to admit, the presumption that all Elementals possess lovely breasts and bottoms is sadly incorrect as half of the Elemental population are men.

  As far as I can gather, Elementals are most similar to witches, although the shrew does not appreciate the comparison. Candidly speaking, she is quite “high and mighty.” Be that as it may, as an Elemental, she is perfectly capable of healing herself and others. She is also a sensitive, which means she can eavesdrop on other people’s thoughts, excluding mine, a fact which I find extremely fascinating. I have yet to understand the reason why she is inept when it involves the siphoning of my mind-waves; while she apparently has no trouble reading the thoughts of other Master Vampires. I simply must conclude this conundrum is merely another example of my disproportionate superiority.

  The shrew can also manage the act of shapeshifting. Not to mention her very nasty left hook …

  “Sinjin!” she demanded before placing her hands on her hips defiantly. She regarded me with what could only be construed as pure irritation. “Where the hell have you been?”

  Although I do not technically report to the amiable lady, there are moments when I wish someone would inform her of that fact.

  “Lady Macbeth,” I answered with a slow smile. Stretching my long legs out before me, I further reclined against my favorite pine tree standing proudly behind me.

  My pine tree overlooks the cliffs of Kinloch Kirk, the residence of the queen which happens to be located in Scotland. I must admit, as a native Londoner, I am not overly fond of the Scottish in general. I find them tirelessly rebellious and generally uncouth (as evidenced by the king of the fae, an apish sot who goes by the name of Odran). Regardless, I have made Kinloch Kirk my home, as the queen’s chief protector as well as the ambassador of her peo
ple. I am quite important, if I may humbly confess. However, allow me to return to my interaction with the harpy …

  While observing her, my smile was not feinted or forced as I do find myself genuinely amused by the tempestuous imp. “To what do I owe this honor?” I asked, my agreeable mood made evident by the pleasant tone of my voice.

  “Honor my ass!” she abused me. Jutting her glorious breasts forward, they bounced roundly with the effort, causing me to temporarily wonder if she were wearing a brassiere. My most earnest hope was that she was not. Believing that breasts (especially large ones) are one of the most wonderful aspects of femininity, I endorse the notion that they, therefore, should be free of any and all restraints. How else could a chilly breeze achieve its desired effect in pebbling the nipples?

  “I must admit to my fondness for your ‘ass’ as you so eloquently refer to it,” I said. I glimpsed the topic of the hour and nodded to show my approval, thereby offering her an olive branch. Yet, I was still uncertain as to the reason she was so upset with me.

  “Ugh,” she grumbled as she rolled her eyes upward and her frown soured. The woman is as congenial as a rattlesnake in a thunderstorm, but she is genuine. Unfortunately, genuine people are difficult to find, in my experience.

  “As to my whereabouts,” I started before feeling an errant tickle upon my lower back. I rubbed my backside against the bark of the tree, somewhat like a great bear. A grizzly bear. “I have been sitting here, enjoying the lovely moonlight.”

  “Well, you’re late!” the little twit railed back at me, her eyes fuming. I could not say I was alarmed by her obvious distress. The truth of the matter is that I quite enjoy her outbursts; they lead to more jerky movements, which make her copious breasts and round bottom move with even more motion than they are otherwise accustomed to. The mark of true sexuality should only be judged through movement; of that I am convinced. It may come as no surprise, but I am also quite partial to Internet videos of naked women jumping on trampolines …

  “To what engagement am I tardy?” I asked with little to no interest. In actuality, I was moderately intrigued, but my feigned apathy only further ignited the little she-devil, happily leading to even more bouncing flesh. Yes, I honestly must admit to being an opportunist in the highest degree.

  “No engagement!” the dragon seethed through her flames. “You were supposed to train with me twenty minutes ago!” She glanced down at the notebook in my lap which seemed to further enrage her. “And instead, you’re sitting here, writing in your diary!”

  I chuckled. The fierce tigress can be quite humorous. But despite how entertaining she can be, I did not want to reveal my business to her. I firmly snapped the cover of the notebook and stood up. She was utterly wrong. Although I most certainly was not penning an entry in my diary, I was sketching the layout of one of our enemies’ training facilities.

  Coincidentally, Bryn had roots from this exact facility. Yes, once upon a time she was an enemy of the state, an enemy of the people. However, she is now firmly ensconced as one of our own. Her deprogramming was quite a feat and rather lengthy as the hellion is certainly stubborn. But if I am nothing else, I am patient and resourceful. Having been handpicked by the queen herself to oversee the reconditioning of her sister, I did not back down until I was certain the hellcat could perform as a model citizen and an example to Underworld creatures everywhere.

  Even though my business had everything to do with the shrew, I dared not let her know what I was planning, fearing her unsolicited involvement. This mission was only for one. I could not, nor would I endanger any of my comrades, least of all, the queen’s sister.

  “Did we not wrestle mere hours ago, my pet?” I asked as I glanced up at her and smiled. Though she is certainly a capable warrior, she is quite a small package. Small but delectable.

  “The last time we trained was this morning! And it wasn’t even for a full hour because you had to go tend to something!” she spat back at me, vitriol flashing in her eyes. As a rule, the lady will not tolerate anything which conflicts with her own desires. I follow the same rule which means we usually find ourselves at odds.

  “I am a busy man, my dear,” I answered with no hint of apology. “Such is the grueling life as the queen’s ambassador.”

  “Busy?” she scoffed sarcastically. She eyed the base of the tree where I had been enjoying the evening’s moonlight. “Busy? Taking a snooze, don’t you mean? You can’t fool me for two seconds, Sinjin,” she started. “And as far as being my training partner, you suck! And then some!”

  “Guilty as charged, my little imp. As a Master Vampire, ‘sucking’ is a singular pastime to which I excel. Now, were I a mere bloodsucker, or something equally as base, perhaps I might retort with a pun regarding ‘sucking’ and other pastimes, some of which I enjoy even more …”

  “Oh, God, here we go again,” she said with a sigh. “If you intend to enlighten me as to the superiority and sophistication of Master Vampires, and how they are sooo much better than regular vampires, save it! I’ve only heard that tedious lecture … what? Nine million times already!”

  “Your words cut me to the quick, bête noire,” I answered, without feeling offended. Never a man who repeats himself, I imagined the truth lay more along the lines of my “lecturing” her once, at the most.

  “We need to continuously sharpen my fighting abilities, Sinjin,” the fury demanded, nodding vigorously. “I need to take my skills to the next level, and must always keep improving myself, breaking my own records. I can’t rest, not even for a minute. That could mean the difference between life and death!” She stopped to take a breath, thank God, lest she swoon in her heightened agitation. “If we eventually have to face Luce and Nairn, I must be ready,” she finished.

  Luce and Nairn were the rulers of what were once her people. Luce was an old and powerful Elemental, and Nairn was the leader of the Daywalkers, a species akin to vampires, only these bloodsuckers could walk in the daylight. They were not much of a threat in my opinion; the males only lived until their twenty-first birthdays, owing to a mysterious disease which they contracted during their late teen years.

  “I see,” I started before the imp interrupted me.

  “I have to be able to defend myself against the speed and strength of the Daywalkers. Unfortunately for me, you are the only person who can teach me everything I need to know.”

  “While it is quite true that I am the best teacher, I fear you are taking this training subject a bit too seriously, my dear,” I started, turning to face her earnestly. “You will drive yourself to fatigue if you continue in this reckless manner. You require as much rest as you do practice.”

  She immediately started shaking her head in protest. “I don’t have time to rest! Rest and I’m as good as dead.” Taking a deep breath, she repeated, “No. I’ve been spending half my days training with Mathilda just to hone my magic; and I intend to spend the remaining half with you, mastering my agility and speed.”

  Mathilda was certainly the best choice for instructing the lady on magic; she was the oldest of the fae, and by far, the strongest.

  “And to whom will you report regarding your lessons in deportment, cooking, sewing and child rearing?” I asked with a large grin.

  Her subsequent glare spoke volumes.

  TWO

  “I wasn’t fast enough,” the shrew announced, her lips tightening. “Again. Let’s try it again.”

  “Bête noire, we have been doing this for over an hour,” I started as I shook my head. My next round of recourse would have to include the outstanding fact that there was no possible way she could beat me when it came to speed. She was simply not fast enough. This was not a critique upon her person but, rather, her species and, more specifically, because she was not a vampire.

  “I don’t care,” she interrupted, her jaw set stubbornly. “I won’t give up until I can sense where you are and defend myself.”

  We were honing her ability to detect me in the air as I materialized throug
h it. Daywalkers shared the same ability, and could move from one locale to another in merely seconds. It was true that a Daywalker could not compete with the speed of a Master Vampire, but perhaps that was even more reason for the imp to train with me. If she could defend herself against me, she could defend herself against any Daywalker.

  I did not say a single word as I stood in front of her and watched her inhale deeply. Her chest was already rising and falling owing to her exhaustion. We had been sparring for quite some time. She stood in a fighting stance, her eyes trained on mine. With her long, honey-colored hair blowing about her shoulders in the soft breeze, she was … nothing less than lovely. Perhaps she was the most beautiful creature I had ever beheld. At the very least, her beauty equaled that of her sister. As fraternal twins, the splendor of Jolie and Bryn could not be compared in terms of quantity thereof. The queen shone as the light to the Lady Bryn’s darkness, both in her features and inner character. Jolie’s bright innocence was fully displayed by her wide, blue eyes and plump lips. Admittedly, the two shared some similar traits, but Bryn might as well have been cut from a completely different fabric. For one thing, she was harder. Her physique was carved of well-developed muscle, which was overlaid with curvaceous, feminine flesh. And her hollow cheeks only served to make her already pouty lips appear that much fuller. Her eyes, the very same shade of cornflower blue as her sister’s, were far more suspicious in contrast, suggesting the hardened thoughts running through her mind that colored her world.

  As I beheld her before me now, though, I was quite convinced she was the most stunning woman I had ever seen.

  “Sinjin,” she said, her tone of voice audibly irritable. “Stop zoning out and start paying attention to what I’m saying!” She glared at me. “God, you’re so annoying!”

  “Ahem,” I said while clearing my throat. I felt suddenly ill at ease knowing she had caught me admiring her. While I am certainly an avid proponent of venerating the sumptuous beauty of women, as a rule, I rarely lose myself in their loveliness. That would be entirely too inexperienced and clumsy. And I am certainly far from acting a novice when it comes to seducing the fairer sex.

 
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