Free Dalakis Passion 4 - Eternal Brothers by N. J. Walters Page B

shivered
and shook, her muscles contracting and relaxing in an unending rhythm. Zane yelled
and then she felt the hot rush of semen release inside her. It felt incredibly good. Too
good. She realized then that neither one of them had thought of a condom.
The thought disappeared as she felt him leaning over her back. His breath was hot
on her neck, his teeth sharp as they scraped over her skin. She wanted it. Tilting her
neck to one side, she offered him what he needed, giving herself fully to him.
The pain was piercing and she gasped. Then it was gone as pleasure flooded her
again. She could feel the sharp pull as he began to suck and knew he was drinking her
blood. Incredibly, her orgasm, which had begun to subside, heated up again. Another
rush of release flooded her body as she came again and again and again.
The world dimmed as he continued to drink and she slumped toward the wall. She
heard him swear and then the world went blank.

Chapter Six

Blythe Nixon shivered, pulling the lapels of her jacket closer together as she crossed
the dark, rainy street. Her sneakers made no sound on the pavement. No one looking at
the mop of wet hair, her bare face devoid of all makeup and her faded jeans would ever
mistake her for Bliss, the sultry singer who entertained at The Club for almost a year.
She shivered again. A whole year as prisoner of one Jethro Prince. He hadn't had to
physically lock her up, but he alone had held the key to her imprisonment. But those
days were over.
Stopping just outside the door, she stared. This place had been one of the most
popular spots in the city before the hurricane, but to her it was hell. She'd have never
come back except someone from the club had called, informing her that the new owner
had been going through the books and was paying former staff wages that had been
lost when Jethro Prince and his goon, Smith, had been found murdered, in hopes of
luring some of the staff back to work there. There was nothing on the face of this planet
that could entice Blythe to return here to work, but she wasn't so well off that she didn't
need the money.
Swiping her hand over her wet face, she thrust her memories away, closing them
behind a steel door in her mind. Not now. The grief was still too fresh and she couldn't
afford to show any weakness. When she was safe at home, locked inside her single-
room apartment, then she could let down her guard.
Feeling the dampness seeping through her jeans, she forced her hand to clasp the
handle of the door and pull it open. She ignored the fact that her fingers were
trembling. Just the cold, she assured herself. It had nothing to do with returning to the
place that held such horrific memories. She thought that coming here in the morning
would lessen the impact of the place, and maybe it would have if the sun had been
shining, but the gloom added to the oppressive feeling that threatened to choke her.
Taking a deep breath, she made her feet take one step forward and then another.
The door slammed shut behind her with a finality that made her jump. She clenched her
jaw and ignored the chills running down her spine. She could leave here any time she
chose. She was no longer a captive to a madman's whims.
"We're closed," the man behind the bar called out. "We don't open until this
evening."
She squinted through the dim light. "Barney, is that you?"
The bartender laid the glass he'd been cleaning down on the glossy countertop and
leaned forward. "Bliss?"
Blythe shuddered at the name as she strolled toward the bar, trying to give the
appearance of being relaxed. Her heart was pounding so hard she was surprised that
Barney couldn't hear its frantic beat.
The name had been his idea. Nobody had called her by that name since she'd fled
here the night that Prince had been killed. "It's Blythe. That was a stage name and one I
never particularly liked."
The big, dark-haired man shrugged good-naturedly. "Sure thing, Blythe. You cut
your hair."
She ran her fingers through the