tagNonHumanHunted Blood II: Dark Reign Ch. 5

Hunted Blood II: Dark Reign Ch. 5


Greg had no idea. Well, that was not entirely true. It was more like he did not understand. He was certain that whoever had killed Yuki was a vampire. What he did not understand was why.

What was even worse, he knew, was that he would have to report it to Akuma soon. It would still be a few days as of yet before Akuma could be contacted by cellular phone. Perhaps, in that time, Greg would have an explanation.

Why would a vampire kill another of its kind? he wondered to himself as he stood in the basement. He watched two of his subordinates clean the remains of Yuki's gore from the walls and floor. He could still sense a lingering presence of the vampire. Whoever they were, they were very powerful. Quite probably very old, he figured. Certainly it was no one in his little realm.

And, what was even more puzzling, was that whoever killed Yuki had killed the watcher at the door by snapping his neck. That just didn't fit at all. A vampire should have bled the human. A vampire would not have been able to pass up the opportunity to drain the human's blood.

And there again, whoever did it took the human Michael Stone. What was he, some kind of damn trophy or something? Greg just did not understand.

But if he had only stretched out with his juvenile vampire senses, he would have known. The answer to his questions was less than ten miles away.


Anita watched him. She saw the way he looked at her. Inwardly, she smiled. She knew it was no trick of her vampiric powers that caused men and women alike to want her. Anita possessed a natural beauty. Her long, raven-black hair flowed gently over her shoulders, laying tantalizingly across the swell of her full breasts. Her milky skin glowed of its own accord, however enhanced by her vampire blood. She was wearing black tonight, a low-cut dress that clung tightly to her until her waist, then hung excitingly over her hips. She gave a little smile.

The American business man got up and crossed the floor of the small hotel bar. He sat down beside Anita at the bar. They made small talk for a moment, and as she expected, the man invited her up to his room. He would never know that she had implanted the suggestion into his mind herself.

They had scarcely gotten inside the door when Anita felt his hands on her hips. She leaned against him, rolling her head across his chest, turning around slowly, rubbing her hair against him. She nuzzled against him now, sliding her cheek against the fabric of his suit, her hands undoing his tie. And then, her lips were against his neck, her mouth opening, her tongue tracing, as the sharp fangs extended from their places in her upper gum.

She laughed at the irony of the situation. The man was nice, and somewhat respectful. And, she had placed all kinds of erotic thoughts into his mind. Hmmf, he thought he was going to get a blowjob.

Anita bit him instead.

And she drank.

When she was finished, she carried him to the bed. She waited with him until his wound had begun to heal. She had not taken much blood. She only drank what she needed. One last probe into his mind, and she impressed upon him a night's drinking. He would remember nothing of her.


Michael Stone's movements were almost impossible to see. His arms were but a blur, even to Osato's experienced eyes. Stone stepped and kicked, then began to move again, his hands forming the blocking and striking techniques from the animal-based forms of Shaolin kung fu. When he was finished with the set, Michael turned to Osato and bowed.

The old samurai master nodded. He approached Stone and withdrew from his obi a long katana, sheathed in a heavy wood scabbard. He handed it to his pupil, bowing his head as he did.

Stone smiled. "Arigato, Sensei," he said. Michael looked the sword over in his hands, running his fingers over the braided hilt and the small, ornamental menuki dragons. He touched the tsuba, feeling the small handle of the kozuki dagger hidden within the gaurd. Michael bowed deeply. Master Osato had just given him a dai katana, the longer and heavier battle sword of the samurai.

The old man smiled back. "Try to keep this one, son," he admonished. "They are not easy to come by."

Stone cast his head down in shame. He had lost the sword that he had carried for many years. It was one of the first that Osato had given him, long ago. Fortunately, his old katana was not a family sword. Stone knew it had been crafted by a Japanese swordsmith in the old way, with the high-carbon steel blade folded many hundreds of times. However, it was without fancy adornments. It was fashioned for killing, like the dai katana that Osato had just given him.

If it had been a family sword that had been taken from him, then Stone would have been required by the code of bushido to commit seppuku.

"Draw with me," Osato told him. The samurai master began to draw his own katana, and Stone followed suit. They then began a duet of a kata from iaido, the way of the sword.

Stone's subconcious mind controlled his movements. He was scarcely aware of his drawing and cutting with the new sword. He hardly sensed the zip of the razor sharp blade as it sliced through the air. His muscles determined the difference in weights of the swords, and he adjusted his arcs and cuts to take advantage of the dai katana's power. His live mind, however, was thinking. Plotting. Examining and rearranging. Even after they had finished the kata, both Osato's and Stone's bodies glistening in the dojo lights, he continued going over the plan in his mind. It would take some skillful infiltration, and perfect timing, but it could work.

"Vengeance is a powerful fuel for an all-consuming fire," the samurai master said. The words snapped Stone out of his meditation. They were seated side-by-side on the tatami mat, seated in the seiza meditation posture. Stone turned his head to look at his teacher.

"It's necessary, Sensei." Stone's voice was low as he spoke. "These are killers. And they are dangerous. I fear that this is only a cell, one of many branches of whatever kind of organization that Akuma has. It must be taken out."

"Hai," Osato said. "I agree, Michael-san." The old man turned to look his student in the eyes. "But, we have already lost one warrior. I do not wish to lose another."

Michael could no longer meet his master's gaze. He already held himself personally responsible for Mariko's death. Even though he told himself that there was nothing that could have been done, that she knew what she was doing, and that the factors involved were out of his control, the part that made Michael utterly human carried a pain of guilt for it.

Stone bowed to his sensei, then got up and left the dojo. He went to his room and rummaged through a duffel bag until he found his cell phone. He dailed a number from memory.


Anita entered the dojo just after ten o'clock. She found Osato sitting on the mat, staring blankly at the wall. She moved silently past him, not wishing to disturb his meditation.

Osato knew Anita had entered. He knew she was there, in the room, walking back towards the adjoining buildings. Toshiro Osato knew everything that was happening around him. Yet he also knew nothing at all.

She found Stone in his room talking on his phone. She entered at the last of his conversation.

"It doesn't matter. Get it here as soon as possible. I don't have much time at all," she heard him say. Stone then pressed the END button and placed the phone back in his bag.

"A supplier we have here," Stone told her. "He wasn't too happy with my requests."

"You are planning to go back to the place where I found you," she stated.

Stone nodded. "At sunrise," he told her.

Anita looked down at the floor. "I fear for you," she told him.

Stone stood and touched her face. "This is what I have to do," he said.

"Akuma is not there," she told him.

Stone looked at her sideways for a second. Anita continued. "I felt a strong presence receding from the area when I was approaching. Only a powerful vampire could have had such an aura."

Stone nodded. "It doesn't matter right now," he reasoned. "I will deal with Akuma soon enough. Right now, I have to destroy what is here."

"This hydra has many heads."

Stone narrowed his eyes. "Ok, out with it. What exactly do you know about Akuma?"

"He is an old, powerful vampire. Like some of them, like Marcus that you killed, he believes in having as many underlings as possible."

Stone felt as if he wasn't getting everything from her. However, what she said made sense. It was the same profile that one of the pshrinks at The Organization would have assigned, he figured. Michael turned and began unpacking his other armored bodysuit.

"I need, in as much detail as you can remember, the layout of that place," he said. Anita began to tell him what she had seen as he prepared his gear for the morning. He committed it to memory as he worked. Some of it he left out, because it was superfluous. He had forgotten that vampires remembered everything.

When he had finished, and Anita had gone silent, he turned to her. She smiled at him, sitting on the edge of the futon, her black hair framing her beautiful face. He sat beside her, stroking her hair, tracing the outline of her face. His fingers strayed across her full lips, and she kissed his fingertips. Michael pulled her face to his, lightly touching his lips against hers.

Anita shuddered when his mouth touched hers. She opened her mouth, allowing the soft tip of Michael's tongue to play along her lips. She inhaled sharply each time she felt his tongue dip teasingly inside her mouth, lingering for just a hearbeat to caress her own. She felt him leave her mouth, and he kissed lightly across her cheek, to her ear. There he traced the outline of her ear with his tongue, then kissed across her jaw to her neck. His lips pressed against her neck as he kissed her there, and he pulled her hair onto the top of her head as he lightly licked the back of her neck.

Michael was behind her now. He held her hair as he kissed and licked her neck, and his other hand pulled the zipper of her dress down. When her back was exposed, Michael rolled the fabric off her arms, and he began kissing her back. He gave her slow, light licks and nibbles down her spine. Michael enjoyed watching her arch her back as he moved lower. He pulled at the bottom of the zipper, and Anita stood. Stone rolled the dress off the swell of her hips and ass and watched it pile into a satisified heap at her feet.

Now Michael was facing the most beautiful rear end he had ever seen. He touched Anita's ass lightly, running his fingertips over the swells of her buttocks as he marveled at her milky-white skin. He heard her breathing change again into long, slow breaths. He kissed her softly at the base of her spine and he felt her buttocks tense under his strong hands. Michael took her by her hips and directed her to lie face-down on the futon. He then pulled her up, so that her back was arched, and her beautiful ass was in the air. She spread her legs automatically for him. That was when his breathing changed.

There, lewdly displayed for him, was her sex. The soft curls of black hair could not hide its puffiness. He could see the moisture already forming on the pink petals of her inner lips. The memories of her taste and of being inside her flooded his hormone clouded mind. No, he wouldn't rush this, though.

Stone kissed up the back of Anita's left calf, pausing briefly to suck the back of her knee. She moaned for him then as she flexed her legs and pushed her ass back to him. Michael continued his kisses up her thigh and across her ass. He stopped, and lightly spreading her cheeks with his hands, began to run the tip of his tongue lightly down the center. He paused briefly at her anus, where he gave two slow licks. Anita grunted and squirmed, trying to push his tongue into her.

Michael moved though, running his tongue directly between the lips of her pussy, all the way, leaning down so that the tip of his tongue raked across her clit. He felt her tense up again, and heard her low moan. He went back to the bottom of her slit, repeating the lick, and again allowing his tongue to flick across her clit. He did this one more time. Anita was pushing her ass against him on the last one, desperately trying to get his tongue inside her. When Michael stopped, and moved slightly away from her, all she could feel was his warm breath on her open and glistening pussy.

She was moaning again. A pleading, needing moan. Michael layed down, sliding under her so that her pussy rested on his mouth. He placed a hand on each cheek of her ass, and as he opened his mouth on her pussy, he gripped tightly.

Anita knew what was about to happen. She waited. She could feel his hands holding the cheeks of her butt. She could feel his open mouth around the lips of her pussy. She closed her eyes and silently willed him to shove his tongue inside her.

Michael almost smiled when he heard her inside his head. And he granted her wish. In one quick movement, he plunged as much of his tongue as he could inside her hot and wet sheath.

Anita tightened her pelvic muscles and rocked her hips downward as she felt his tongue enter her. With one hand she reached under her and took his hair, running her fingers through it as he moved his tongue in and out of her.

"Oh, yes, Michael, yes. Please. Yes," she said.

Stone was flicking his tongue across her clit now, furiously bringing her to the brink of an orgasm. Anita was pushing back against him, her hand holding his head by the hair. She ground her pussy against his face, coating his mouth and chin in her wetness. Her breath was coming in pants now, and she wanted so much to scream. Her orgasm was coming. So close.

Michael pulled his tongue back into his mouth and closed his lips tightly.

Anita moaned a "no", pulling his hair, urging him to finish. "Please, Michael. Oh God, please," she begged. Stone slid from under her, flipping her uncermoniously to her back as he began to shed his clothes.

Anita gazed at him over her shoulder, a look of complete wantoness and lust on her face. Michael saw that her eyes were narrowed to slits. It was the most incredible "fuck me" look he had ever seen. Her beauty, her milky white skin, only added to the raging desire that had consumed him. Licking her sweet pussy had elevated Michael to an incredible degree of pure lust. Now, right here, he thought as he removed his underwear, he was going to fuck her.

Stone was inside her within a second, his hard penis pushing into her wetness. Her pussy was so hot inside. It almost seemed as if it was burning him. Michael's analytical mind took note of this. It was in stark contrast to the cool temperature of her skin. A vampire did not regulate its body temperature, but it was not totally cold-blooded either. Vampires tended to be several degrees colder than a human, except for when they fed, and their accelerated metabolism worked to extract the necessary proteins from the diet of blood. Anita's skin always had a pleasant coolness to the touch. But not her pussy. No, Michael thought, her pussy was on fire.

He slammed into her, wrapping his hands around her waist at the start of the voluptuous curve of her hips. He held her, pushing into her and pulling almost completely out. He fucked her like this for only a few minutes, Anita biting into the pillow to keep from screaming.

Stone took her by the hips and turned her over. Her long legs wrapped sensuously around him as he entered slowly. Michael's eyes were closed as he traced his fingertips over her face, her lips, her eyes, savoring the feeling of her. He ran his fingertips over her nipples, feeling their crinkly hardness as he fucked her gently, sweetly. He opened his eyes to see Anita looking him. He watched her brow furrow and her mouth form a sigh each time he slid all the way in.

"I love you, Michael" she said to him as he moved his hips on top of hers. His penis was angled inside her now, the top of it rubbing against her sensitive clit each time he entered. Stone took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, pushing into her, grinding his cock against her pubic mound.

It only took a few seconds of this. Anita drew her legs up, locking her strong thighs around Michael. She brought her hand to her mouth, her fingers curled into a fist, into which she bit. Stone saw her jaws clench tight as her fangs descended, and he watched her draw her own blood as she bit into her hand.

Anita had no choice. She was to bite something, or she was to scream. Her stomach tightened, and she felt her pussy spasm. She bit herself harder as her orgasm took her. Involuntarily, she lifted her ass from the futon, her mucles taught and rippling as she came.

As she began to relax, she felt Michael spasm inside her. She could feel his hot semen flooding from him. She had taken her hand partially away from her mouth, yet now she found herself biting her fist again, as Michael's orgasm triggered another of her own.

Michael had buried himself inside her convulsing pussy. He stayed there, his mouth a grimace of fulfillment as he came inside her. His left hand supported his weight, his arm shaking as he came, the muscles taught and firm. He found that he had wrapped his right hand in Anita's beautiful, black hair. This he pulled tightly, causing her to arch her neck even as she bit into her own flesh.

Finally, he released her. He lay motionless atop her for a moment, shaking. He unwound his hand from her hair.

Anita slowly relaxed, releasing the tension in her legs, and her ass soon made contact with the futon once again. Her mouth formed into a languid smile of content. Michael rolled over with her to his side, where she lay her head on his chest.

"I love you, too," he said at last.

The silence was unbroken for a while.

"I must tell you of Akuma," Anita said at last, her voice a soft whisper against Michael's chest. She raised her head and propped on her hand, her other hand resting lightly on his stomach. In the dark, Michael's eyes watched her intently.

"Akuma is not his real name. He was born Antonio Ramundo Castillo de Sanchez. He is from Spain. I knew him when he was human. His father, a noble lord, was killed in battle. This was during a time when wars plagued our country, from foreigners and from within. Antonio, saddened at his father's death, sought to right what he considered wrong. He himself was nearly killed, and when he returned to Spain, he found that his castle and lands had been taken as ransom. Without any money, or power, he was nothing to anyone.

"I had just become a vampire. I was learning, exploring my new-found world. Antonio was sad, desperate to revive himself, to free our country. He sought to ride with El Cid, but even he could not afford the money for armor or weapons. He had such dreams, such visions. I thought I was in love with him, and I foolishly gave him the power of a vampire."

Anita shook her head ever so softly. "I did not know that, with his new found powers, Antonio would become power hungry. His thirst for power was only matched by his thirst for blood. I had been warned by my master about this kind, a vampire who would only seek to kill, to oppress. Yet I made one."

Stone touched Anita's hand, urging her to continue.

"It wasn't long after that Antonio left Spain. Our firearms manufacturers in Toledo had contracted to supply the Japanese with muskets. Antonio went there, to Japan, where he wormed his way into their society, and became quite wealthy. It was later, many, many years later, that we learned of this 'Akuma'. We knew it could only be him, Antonio Ramundo Castillo de Sanchez.

"When I felt the presence receding from the place where I found you, I knew it was him."

"You spoke," Michael said quietly, "of 'we'. Who are you talking about?"

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