DEEP RED.

KATE HILL.

Chronicler's Note.

The following story has been permanently filed in the Network archive. For security purposes, the names of certain locations/persons have been changed or omitted. Otherwise, after interviewing the four main parties involved as well as observing the Jury meetings connected to the case known as Deep Red, this record is, to my knowledge, true. The opinions expressed in this compilation do not reflect those of the Network or this chronicler, but belong solely to the individuals noted.

-Mara Lindsay, New York.

Chapter One.

Sir Edward Race's Mansion The Mojave Desert, California.

He stared into the ornate gold mirror and wondered who he was. After so many lives and so many names, he wasn't sure he knew. All he understood was his purpose. He always needed a purpose, otherwise what was the point of living?

His eyes wandered over his own form. A black silk shirt tucked into black slacks draped his tall, sinewy body. Loose curls of thick black hair hung almost to his shoulders. His features were strong, but not particularly outstanding, except for his eyes. Pale green and almond shaped, he used them to advantage, knowing one of his strengths was the ability to stare down a starving tiger. Though he'd never considered himself a particularly handsome man, he'd never lacked for women's attention-either mortal or vampire. They actually seemed to flock to him, as if he emanated pheromones that ensnared both species.

Most men would have regarded such presence as a gift. To Seraphim, it was a curse, for his deepest desire and his deepest fear were one in the same: to be loved.

The clock on the mantle said five minutes to one. He would be just in time for dinner. As he stepped into the corridor, two maids dressed in black uniforms cast discreet glances his way. One of them flashed her tiny hybrid fangs with her smile. He returned the gesture, though he kept his teeth sheathed, so as not to give her any ideas. Hybrids didn't have the option of hiding their fangs, but an Immaculate vampire revealing his incisors meant one of two things: anger or l.u.s.t. At that moment, Seraphim wanted nothing more than dinner. The excess of physical love at Sir Edward's mansion challenged even his considerable appet.i.te.

On the stairwell, he met two other guests-a Princess of some southwestern isle and her consort. He'd already spent the night with her several times while her consort enjoyed one of the mortal housekeepers. Sir Edward's staff included both mortals and hybrids, ensuring plenty of nourishing entertainment for hybrid and Immaculate guests alike. Seraphim was glad of that. Though only the blood of another vampire could nourish Immaculates, his preferred bedmates were undeniably mortal.

"I don't know how you can stand those puny human girls," the Princess had told him just two nights ago after he'd nearly knocked her through the floor during their lovemaking. His back had taken several hours to heal after the ruts her claws left. "How do you manage to restrain yourself? Or do you enjoy killing them?"

Seraphim had offered her a smile that told her nothing. He'd learned it was often far better to let people think the worst of you. In truth, f.u.c.king another vampire was a necessary release every now and then, but he found mortal fragility endearing. Their const.i.tution forced him to touch them tenderly, and he could tell himself his gentleness was necessity, not affection. And he could remember her-and the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who'd helped him destroy her. By joining the Network, he'd called a truce with a man he ached to kill. A man who, gratefully, was a million miles away.

He and the Princess' consort paused outside the dining room door, allowing her to pa.s.s.

"Please." The consort gestured for Seraphim to enter ahead of him. Seraphim strode inside. The consort hadn't a breath of dominance in him. Instinctive rank was important among their kind-far more important than t.i.tle or blood. Dominance was inborn, part of one's soul. When two Alpha male vampires fought, it was usually to the death. Good for the consort that he knew his place.

"Seraphim!" Sir Edward-a slim hybrid with piercing gray eyes-smiled from his place at the head of the table. In spite of his shoulder-length silver hair, his face bore only a few fine lines by his eyes and mouth. He was impeccably groomed in a casual buff-colored suit. "We thought you might miss dinner again. Come. Sit beside me. I have a new mortal performing for us later, and I'd like your opinion of her."

"We know how you adore mortals," the Princess said. "Heaven-or perhaps h.e.l.l-knows why."

The b.i.t.c.h was obviously still offended by his rejection of her the previous night. His last bedroom bout with her had been more than enough.

Several other female guests seated at the table glanced at Seraphim, one or two murmuring in agreement with the Princess.

" I couldn't waste my time with mortals," said David Ridge, a wealthy American entrepreneur. He was a tall man with a burly chest, st.u.r.dy legs, and thick blond hair brushed back from a ruggedly handsome face. The man reeked of Alpha power. "Too weak for me. They don't even begin to challenge my stamina."

"So true." The Princess turned her smile to him, and David's wife flung her a hateful look.

Seraphim took a sip from the crystal gla.s.s of blood red wine set in front of him. His eyes fixed on David's. "The restraint necessary to pleasure such fragility can be the most difficult test of stamina. What better way to learn control enough to pleasure one of our females to the limits of her endurance than to explore mortal love? We know the man who walks the tightrope is so much more balanced when his feet grace a marble floor."

"Well said." Sir Edward grinned.

David scoffed. "You talk a good show, Seraphim."

"I a.s.sure you he does far more than talk." Another female guest, an owner of a worldwide chain of fine jewelry shops, ran the tip of her tongue over her red painted lips. Some might consider the blond-haired Immaculate female beautiful. Seraphim preferred more cla.s.sic looks to her garishness. If his a.s.signment hadn't been to blend in with the guests at Sir Edward's, he never would have slept with her even once. But speaking of stamina, she had been quite a challenge.

The conversation lagged as dinner was served and everyone focused their attention on the rare steak and tender baby vegetables set before them. Sir Edward spared no expense for his guests, which was part of the reason they paid so well and so often for the use of his desert playground. The rest was due to his discretion. Sir Edward's was no Casa Rosa-a nasty place Seraphim had once tracked his old enemy to. That place had carried the stench of raw debauchery. At least Sir Edward's was buffered by finery, and the male and female entertainers hand picked for their beauty, talents, and cleanliness. In spite of such easy access to pleasure, Seraphim preferred the hunt. Discovering the female whose blood called to him, tracking her, and seducing her were one of life's greatest pleasures. When he found such a female, he could close his eyes and pretend to love.

As the meal ended, Sir Edward tapped his spoon against his wine gla.s.s to silence the chatting guests. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, a mortal beauty who-I believe-has captured the essence of a more sensual time. I regret I am not old enough to have seen ancient Egypt firsthand, but perhaps those of you who were there can tell me if she would not have befitted Cleopatra herself."

Sir Edward waved his hand and a group of five musicians stepped into the room. Two played hand drums, two stringed instruments, and the third a flute. At the first note of their song, a woman dressed in sheer olive green harem clothes, a gold belt about her hips, danced into the room. Her face was covered in an olive veil, revealing only her large green eyes, fringed with thick, dark lashes. Her heartbeat thundered across the room, her fear and apprehension apparent to vampiric senses.

Seraphim's own pulse quickened, as her performance reminded him of a time when he'd been most content-a time that had driven an emotional stake through his heart and stolen part of his sanity.

The woman danced closer, and when she paused, her eyes met Seraphim's. They were desperate eyes, yet powerful. He sensed her resilience, even trapped among creatures seeking to feast on her thin, sweet, mortal blood.

The music ended with the dancer poised in the center of the floor. Seraphim watched the swell of her belly as she breathed and noticed the firm plumpness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s straining above a bra of gold and green beads.

"Pleasant," one of the male guests said, a smile in his voice. "She does capture a bit of the ancient."

"I wonder if she tastes as good as she smells," said someone else-female this time. Seraphim felt Sir Edward's eyes on him and tore his gaze from the dancer. "Well?" Sir Edward asked, his voice scarcely a whisper. "Another dance, perhaps?" Seraphim said.

Sir Edward motioned for the performance to continue. This time the dance was slow and sensual. She spun, removing the veil from her face and twirling it around her.

Though not beautiful, she had good features, a straight nose and pretty lips. Her eyes were stunning, however. Their expression was as deep as an endless pool of rich blood. Her body, while not too plump, was gently rounded, her belly, hips, and arms curved. Seraphim imagined resting his cheek against her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s, of feeling the heat of her soft, mortal body against his.

"I'd like her today," he said to Sir Edward, staking his claim before any of the hybrid sc.u.m could ask for her.

Sir Edward smiled. "Of course."

"I'll take her," the Princess1 consort said when the music ended. "It might be diverting."

"I am sorry to any gentlemen who wanted her company tonight," Sir Edward said. "She's already been spoken for."

"I wonder by whom?" David chuckled, glancing at Seraphim. "I, for one, am not in the mood to walk a tightrope tonight." He reached for a hybrid maid who was cleaning off the table. His hand slid up the woman's skirt, fondling her until the scent of her arousal floated on the air.

Some of the guests lingered at the table while others disbursed. Seraphim wandered to an indoor courtyard filled with exotic trees and flowers, the likes of which would never be found on the barren land outside. While in the mansion, it was difficult to believe miles of desert waited just beyond the stone walls. Seraphim extended the claw of his right forefinger and traced the shape of a thorn sprouting from one of the rosebushes. He caught her scent before she reached the garden. Two hybrid males- other household servants-accompanied her.

So, Seraphim's lips curved into a humorless smile, she has been forced after all. He'd thought he sensed it from her, but hadn't been certain.

Her footsteps quickened as she struggled to keep her balance after one of the hybrids shoved her inside. The door closed and the scent of the hybrids faded.

The echo of her heartbeat and the aroma of her flesh filled the room. Seraphim closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. "What's your name?"

She didn't reply, and he turned to her, lifting an eyebrow in question.

He found himself gazing into those wide green eyes and resisted the urge to shiver.

"Hannah," she said.

Seraphim took a step closer and touched her hair. He watched the pulse beating in her throat, and when he concentrated hard enough, heard the rush of her blood. Taking a tendril of her honey colored hair gently between his fingers, he asked, "What do you think I want, Hannah?"

"I know what you want." She didn't bother keeping the bitterness from her voice. "You want what every other b.a.s.t.a.r.d he sends me to wants." She flung her hair over her shoulder and tilted her head so he could see the partially healed fang marks in her neck. "Go ahead. Get it over with."

In spite of her words, he felt her tremble as he leaned closer and touched his lips to the wounds on her throat. He closed his eyes as he kissed the soft flesh. When he drew back without so much as exposing his fangs, she stared at him in surprise.

"But I thought-"

Before she finished speaking, his mouth covered hers. His kiss was chaste at first, allowing her to become accustomed to his touch and taste. One of his hands cupped the back of her head while his other arm slipped around her waist, drawing her curves closer to the hard planes of his body. He considered touching her mind with his-a trick of the magical religion he'd perfected over the centuries-but thought better of it. The last thing she needed was another display of power from his kind. She hadn't been far from the truth when she'd guessed his desire. He did want to taste her blood, but more than that, he wanted to seduce her into offering it freely.

Her hands slid up his back, fists unclenching so she could grip him closer. He felt arousal replace her fear and nearly smiled. The tip of his tongue traced the shape of her lips, and they parted beneath his moist caress, inviting him inside where her own tongue greeted his.

When the kiss broke, her eyes seemed a little less frightened and a little more inviting.

"What's your name?" she asked.

He brushed his cheek against hers and whispered against her lips, "Seraphim."

"Fire angels," she murmured. "Like in the Bible?"

His lips curved upward. "Not exactly. I'm going to my room. Come with me?"

He stepped away, extending his palm to her.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked.

"Of course, Hannah."

Slowly she lifted her hand. His fingers curled around hers and she trembled. With a gentle tug, she was in his arms.

She followed him up the stairs, still clutching his hand, particularly when they pa.s.sed David on the stairs. The blond bared his fangs at her, and Seraphim growled deep in his throat. The sound was beyond her mortal hearing, but loud enough for David. It was a warning growl, and unless David wished a battle right there on the stairway, he'd keep his fangs away from Seraphim's bed partner for that night.

The blond snarled, but continued on his way. He was going to be trouble one day. Seraphim could tell.

When they reached his room, Seraphim opened the door for her, then locked it behind them. She spun, her heart pounding, and stared from the door to him.

He didn't speak a word. He made certain his eyes said it all. Hannah stared at him, transfixed, but somehow she was holding him as well. She had secrets, too. And a purpose. He sensed it.

Taking her hands, he entwined his fingers with hers before he pushed her hands behind her back. Her small hands felt cold and her heartbeat echoed in the otherwise quiet room. Seraphim tried rea.s.suring her with the look in his eyes. He realized he was probably unlike any other guest she'd entertained in that he wanted to please her. Leaning closer, he felt her warm breath against his lips before kissing her. He kissed her upper lip then her lower before covering her entire mouth with his and gently slipping his tongue between her lips. She responded with moist, gentle strokes of her own. For a moment he allowed her to take the lead, to explore his mouth to her satisfaction. Her fingers lost their chill and tightened on his. Seraphim smiled slightly.

Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to the bed and placed her on it. He nuzzled her shoulder and kissed her belly, exposed beneath her beaded bra. He slipped the harem pants over her hips and down her legs. Tossing them aside, he allowed his fangs to slip from flesh sheaths and used the long, curved weapons to rip off her panties and bra without so much as scratching her skin. He flung the shredded satin aside and licked her inner thighs before running his tongue over her c.l.i.t and sucking the swollen little nub.

She made an earthy sound deep in her throat and tried wiggling her hips, but he held her fast, lapping and sucking until she quivered, throbbed, and moaned in o.r.g.a.s.m. He gave her only moments to recover as he shed his clothes, then knelt close to her, caressing her smooth legs.

Seraphim ran his tongue up her belly and licked her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, taking one nipple between his flat human teeth and caressing the straining peak with the tip of his tongue. As he moved to the other breast, his fingertips gathered moisture from her wet p.u.s.s.y and circled her c.l.i.t until she came again. She thrashed beneath him, her moans turning to sobs of pa.s.sion as he played with her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and c.l.i.t. Already he sensed when she was close to o.r.g.a.s.m. He observed the quivering of her eyelids against her smooth skin, the parting of her lips, and the flush spreading over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Slowing his movements, his pulse raced as she lifted her hips against his rubbing hand, trying to reach fulfillment.

"Shh," he soothed, removing his hand and gently stroking her belly. Her eyelids lifted partway and she watched him with desire and wariness combined. A twinge of sorrow tugged at his heart as he realized she still couldn't quite believe he wanted to pleasure her. He stroked languid fingertips over her creamy hips and through the cushion of pubic hair. Pushing two fingers gently inside her, he explored her damp p.u.s.s.y before returning to her c.l.i.t. Her stimulated body responded quickly to his touch. This time as she writhed beneath him, he continued rubbing until she throbbed and quivered in fulfillment. Pleasuring her made his c.o.c.k swell and ache. The tip of it continually brushed her legs, and he resisted the urge to shiver.

Suddenly she reached for him, her small hand curving around his c.o.c.k and pumping. He sensed her momentary shock at his size. Though a large c.o.c.k was considered an a.s.set by most, Seraphim often felt annoyed by equipment of his proportion. Hannah's other hand grasped his b.a.l.l.s and squeezed. He placed his hand over hers, gently showing her how to use his foreskin to advantage. With the head finally exposed, she ran her thumb over it, spreading the moisture that gathered at the eye. His pulse leapt with the aching pleasure of her touch. G.o.d, he wanted her! The sound of her blood, the smell of her skin, the touch of her small, mortal hands were driving him to madness.

He positioned himself over her, bearing most of his weight on his hands and forearms as he thrust into her-gently and partway so his enormous c.o.c.k wouldn't cause her discomfort. He pumped his hips while grinding in a circular motion.

"Seraphim!" she breathed. "Seraphim!"

Her mortal body felt hot and tense. The sound of her rushing blood and ragged breathing aroused him to dizzying heights. It had been so long since a woman had touched him this deeply. He'd just met her, but he felt as if he knew her. She murmured breathless endearments while her fingertips caressed his sides and back. Her touch was feathery yet lay like steel upon his soul. She wound her way into his heart, this stranger, this little mortal with secrets in her eyes.

His desire was suddenly unbearable. He panted, restraining the need to slam into her with all the strength of his Immaculate body. She tilted her throat backwards, fully exposing the beautiful, pulsing column in an invitation he could no more resist than he could slow the pounding of his heart.

When his fangs slipped into her flesh, she cried out, though with pleasure rather than pain. A vampire's bite, when done correctly, was as thrilling as the most intense o.r.g.a.s.m. More than anything, he wanted to show her all the magnificence of a proper bite. He growled, his body stiffening as his hips lunged forward, careful with her even in the throes of pa.s.sion. For a moment, the entire world seemed to turn red as he drank her sweet blood and pulsed within her quaking body.

Simultaneously, he slipped his fangs and c.o.c.k from her. Hannah's arms draped him as he rested his cheek against her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, closing his eyes and listening to her heartbeat slow to normal.

As Seraphim lifted his head and slid down her body, Hannah's eyes opened and followed his motions with curiosity. Fear had vanished from their depths, replaced with an expression of calm fulfillment. He wondered how long it had been since she'd enjoyed s.e.x with a man.

Spreading her legs, he settled himself across the bed, draping her legs over him. He grasped her b.u.t.tocks and tugged her downward, closing his eyes as he lapped her moist, warm folds of flesh with long, tender strokes of his tongue. The tip of his tongue ran lightly along the side of her c.l.i.t. Hannah moaned, the muscles of her firm bottom tightening in her pleasure. Seraphim ran his tongue up and down her c.l.i.t then moved to her p.u.s.s.y. Thrusting inside, he tasted her soft, delectable warmth before returning to her sensitive nub. Her body tensed even more as she neared her climax. She panted, her body writhing though he held her steady against his mouth. Seraphim felt he could lick her all night. Her obvious pleasure aroused him, bringing him pleasure in a manner far deeper than simple s.e.xual release.

"Ah! Seraphim!" she sobbed, her pulse pounding and body throbbing beneath his relentless caresses.

His tongue didn't leave her until the last pulsation rolled through her. Stretching out beside her, he gazed at her pleasure-softened face with its closed eyes and the flush fading from smooth cheeks. He watched the rise and fall of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as she rested. Bending, he kissed her throat, allowing himself one last lick of the fang marks. His chest constricted a bit when he realized this was the best s.e.xual experience he'd had in two thousand years. It exceeded the acrobatic, all-night sessions with his own kind and it far surpa.s.sed the hour-long fantasies he created when sleeping with most mortals.

Hannah's eyes opened and she rolled onto her side, facing him. A soft smile touched her lips and he returned it as he pulled the sheet over them and tugged her into his arms.

Hannah was obviously accustomed to living among vampires, since she remained sound asleep when Seraphim slipped from the bed at noon. He dressed and grasped his car keys. At first he thought to leave her, but for some inexplicable reason felt she deserved an explanation as to why she'd awaken in an empty bed.

"Hannah." He touched her shoulder and caressed her hair.

Her eyelids fluttered before lifting. For a moment she looked startled, and he heard her heart pound. "Seraphim?"

"I have to go. Sleep here if you like. I'll be back tomorrow evening."

She nodded, a strange expression in her eyes as she lifted her hand and placed it to his cheek. "Seraphim?"

"Yes?" He took her hand and touched his lips to the back of it.

"Nothing."

"We can talk more when I get back."

"It's all right." She sat up and reached for her harem pants and bra. "I know what this was. You don't have to pretend -"

"I don't pretend. Not with women. It only leads to trouble." He tugged the clothes from her hands and tossed them aside. "Stay here."