The Siren Series 2 Read online

  Constantine

  Volume Two of The Siren Series

  by Marata Eros

  Constantine

  Volume Two of The Siren Series

  Copyright © 2012-2013 Marata Eros

  http://marataeroseroticaauthor.blogspot.com/

  Smashwords Edition

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  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved.

  Edited by Hazel Novak

  For:

  All the girls that dig “bad boys” in fantasy... or not.

  Adult Reading Material:

  The material in this document contains explicit sexual material that is intended for mature audiences only and is inappropriate for readers under eighteen years of age.

  CHAPTER 1

  Constantine's normally slow and steady demeanor lay scattered to the four corners of the earth, a likely occurrence given who faced him.

  The one he protected stood behind him. Undeservedly so. Ember was an anchor at his side. She had the power to call The Mother, the life force of the sea, but what good was she this far inland, where trees were the scenescape instead of waves?

  He narrowed his obsidian gaze on the ten of the Faction who stood before him. Honor-less vampires that he had fought beside or, in some cases, had killed. They circled him now as he infinitesimally mirrored their movements, blocking their view of Ember.

  “Constantine,” the one in the front said in greeting.

  “Aye,” Con answered with typical wariness, his large hands hung loose at his sides. Ready.

  “We seek an audience with you.”

  Con was surprised despite being on his guard. “You have a mighty fucked up way of showing you wish to chat.” His eyes scanned the gloom easily; his mixed-blood aided his night vision. Being of so many different ethnicities was no small advantage to his physical prowess. It was the prejudice that Con had faced from the other supernatural groups that had given him such grief. He had floated like a bottle in the ocean, unprotected as a renegade vampire of mixed-blood and former fighter of the Faction as well.

  He'd been vulnerable until Desmond of the Mer had taken him into the inner circle of guards for the princess, Ember. He'd fucked that six ways to Sunday when his Druid nature had risen like a Phoenix. He had killed Desmond when Con learned of his plans for the mass breeding of Ember and another female.

  He was kicking himself for not letting destiny take control. However, his Druid blood had a mind of its own, and it led him to the protection of the female.

  The female who even now was the focus of heated gazes from every Faction member here.

  To talk.

  Right, and I can suck my own dick, he mused. Not a bad talent, he added mentally and chuckled.

  Ember whacked him on his back. It felt like a fly swatting him and she hissed, “What is funny, vampire? That we have the Faction readying for our death?”

  “They ready for nothing but a virginal fuck of you, my sweet,” Constantine said casually and was satisfied to hear her sudden intake of insulted breath.

  Good, she might think twice, giving the Faction more ideas than were necessary. Ideas they were decidedly entertaining, Con deliberated.

  The one in the front cocked his brow. “You acknowledge this female breeder as fair game?”

  Hell no. His Druid blood roared to the surface of his consciousness like finely heated oil in a cauldron of water. “No, we mean to escape the bonds of the sea.”

  The Faction murmured amongst themselves and the leader said, “I scent her as Mer and... I do not know what else,” he said thoughtfully.

  Constantine did not know the whole of her bloodline and he did not care. She would be underneath him eventually and no one else would have her. Con certainly knew she was trouble; a high maintenance charge to be sure.

  It was part of the fun for Con. He hated easy.

  Without challenge, where was the joy in life? Speaking of which.... he looked at the Faction again.

  “We know only of your reputation. That you escaped the massacre of our kind in the heart of the city.”

  His eyes speared Con as if it was his fault that he'd survived the Reaper invasion from a couple of years ago.

  Whatever, they could french kiss his asshole. That's what Con excelled at: survival. He would not apologize for the very impulses that had saved his hide.

  “Russel knew what I was when he extricated me from the tender mercies of that group,” Con said, his tone dripping with the sarcasm of said rescue. “He was also fully aware of my loyalties and who they were to.”

  “Who?” the Faction asked, seemingly fascinated for the moment.

  “Me,” Con said as his talons slid from his fingertips and the song of battle began to play a tune in his head.

  “We do not wish to war, Constantine of the Faction,” the other said. He looked at Con, then with a subtle signal of his jaw the others closed in. Their faces could not contain the lust they had for the breeder at his back.

  Fuck this noise, Con thought. “Your actions contradict your words,” he said with the certainty of centuries of battles, the tell of their bodies prophesying the aggression to come.

  “Join us,” he breathed at Constantine in invitation.

  Constantine deliberated. They could be stronger if they banded together. He ran from the remnants of the retaliatory Mer; Madden in particular would never stop until he had Con's head on a trident. Yet, as he felt the warmth of the female at his back... what made Con as he was, buried under layers of defense brought by survival, yearned for something more.

  What... he did not know. Constantine supposed it would not come to fruition if he were to bind himself to the marauding Faction once again. No, he was better off taking his chances with only himself as liege.

  He gave a minute shake of his head as an answer.

  The one who had made the invitation hung his head. When his gaze rose to Con's he told the others of the Faction, “Take the breeder, kill the renegade.”

  “You touch this female and I will break off the hand that dares and stuff it up your ass,” Con promised as he heard Ember give a low whimper.

  “So Druid of you... so weak,” the leader said with a cruel smile.

  Con understood cruel, he had been the bearer of such many times over.

  “Constantine,” Ember whispered his name in fear.

  “Do not worry my moist flower, you may thank me later,” Con said to Ember. To the group at large his words were meant as defiance; to Ember they were meant as reassurance.

  The one in the front laughed. “They did not understate your arrogance, Faction.”

  “I am Faction no more, dolt. Or have you not been listening these past minutes?”

  They blurred to Con, sparing him nothing. Two lost their heads in a scissoring cross swipe that had their bodies falling, ash bursting in front of Con and Ember. She
dropped to avoid it and strong arms grabbed her hair, greedy fingers latching into the weave of pearl-like seed pods.

  “Constantine!” Ember yelped. “He takes our healing!” Ember was not worried about her life, but for the precious seed pods that were woven like fine pearlescent jewels into her hair. Kept in plain sight. It was those special plants that provided healing properties and also the main grazing plant for the creatures of the sea that were the Mer's main source of sustenance.

  “Oh, for fuck's sake!” Con growled, ducking as another Faction came for him.

  He speared the offender that had dared to drag Ember from his side.

  Constantine was the only one allowed to cause her pain. And it would not be during a beating, but a rutting.

  “You are a slow learner, Faction,” Con murmured as he buried his talon in the crotch of Ember's attacker. With a comical look of pained surprise his hand fell away from her silky platinum waves.

  “Like that, eh?” Constantine inquired solicitously, twisting the barbed end deeper and the Faction howled.

  “Con!” Ember yelled in warning and Constantine felt that unique pressure at his back that preceded a strike. He had always been sensitive to threatening movements and this was no exception. He was already ducking as the talon sailed harmlessly over his head. He kicked back powerfully; his hamstring muscles bunching in readiness and releasing into whomever was behind.

  With a grunt, the Faction slammed into a nearby willow, the trunk breaking with the impact in an ear-splitting crack that reverberated in the hollowness where the trees gathered like stranded islands of wood and bark.

  “Constantine of the Faction,” a voice like gravel announced.

  What the blue fuck was this new pest? Con grumbled to himself, casually wiping his blood and gore-soaked talon on the nearest Faction's clothing. Full of ash, the clothes held the husk of the vampire. Con stepped over the fallen Faction, wiping ash off his boots as he moved toward the new arrival.

  Constantine faced the threat and for the first time since his former compatriots had arrived he had a hiccup of trepidation.

  A dark Druid Exotic male vampire stood next to the female Con had attempted to rape and who had subsequently given Con the first real lesson of his life that he'd deserved. He shuddered at the memory of the device she'd inserted in her Druid twat.

  A most unpleasant device which Con liked to think of as the dick shredder

  Of course, Con healed... yet, that did not mean that his cock had not felt every strip of skin taken as he had been compelled to fuck this female.

  Now Lucia of Exotic and Druid female lineage was here with what had obviously become her mate, Tarrin. He of the deep Shaman magick of the plains of Africa.

  Constantine looked at the two, she of the gold spiraling curls, and eyes a vibrant green, shot by gold lightning. Lucia's mixed-blood wrapped a finely chiseled female warrior's body, kissed by mocha skin.

  However, for how hard she appeared, Lucia had shown him mercy. A mercy that Con was introspective enough to recognize he'd not deserved.

  There was no mercy in the huge warrior Exotic's eyes: only resolve.

  He meant Con's death. Constantine did not believe in second chances.

  “Who are they?” Ember asked from behind him.

  “Old friends,” Con said in a falsely jovial tone. Ember came to stand beside him and looked from him to the Exotic pair. “I think not,” she said with quiet certainty.

  “You presume correctly,” he conceded.

  “We have been sent to execute Constantine, former member of the Faction.”

  Ember said nothing, the leader of the Faction snorted and Tarrin turned his merciless face to him and he backed away.

  Con thought this worked well for Ember. They would take the mermaid breeder (who was more than she knew), and kill him. She would be free and so would he.

  Unfortunately for them, Constantine did not wish to be freed by way of death. He saw a pinhole of light that bled through the murk of his existence and it would not be taken from him in the eleventh hour for erroneous reasons.

  He stepped forward toward the Exotic, with whom he shared a genetic tie; they possessed precognitive and telepathic abilities and were arbitrators of justice. They were rare, hailing from the Orient or Africa. Exotics were almost unheard of in the Americas. Yet, here the three stood.

  He had been spared two years ago only because of that blood coursing in his veins, there were too few to ignore his rarity.

  Constantine knew his worth; he had suffered for it.

  “Faction scum,” Tarrin casually addressed the six that Constantine had not yet had the pleasure of ending.

  The Faction leader laughed. He was a huge brute of a male, but still easily five inches shorter than Tarrin. “You will not receive aid from this one.” He nodded in Con's direction. “Nor will you receive help from my motley crew.” His eyes met Tarrin's with impunity. “We follow no one. However,” his eyes swept the curvaceous and lightly muscled figure of Lucia, “we will be happy to fuck her Druid cunt in a bath of your blood. First, you die.” He smiled, revealing fangs that were laced with the blood of the innocent he had dispatched moments before coming upon Con. “Then, we will breed her into the ground.”

  Tarrin had a talon embedded inside his throat before he could retrieve the breath from his last word. He plunged it in again and the Faction grabbed his own throat in the universal sign for choking, stumbling back with arterial spray leaking out of his fingers like a geyser.

  “I must avenge my own honor, Tarrin,” Lucia said, staying him with a palm on his forearm as the Faction bled out.

  “I cannot bear to think of another taking you by force.”

  She turned her deep green eyes on his, the molten gold roiling in the depths. “No one will ever touch me in that way again, for I have an overlord to my body, my soul.”

  Constantine rolled his eyes at their poetic interchange. What in the fuck was this soul mate bullshit? Could they get on with the blood letting?

  Tarrin ignored Constantine's aggravated sigh and answered her, “I do not wish to breathe air without you.”

  “Fuck. Off,” a Faction screamed in a banshee wail and expertly stabbed Tarrin in the side. His talon struck between two large ribs.

  Lucia spun, taking off the hand of the one who had stabbed her mate. She landed beside him in a crouch, emitting a soft hiss.

  Constantine smiled, for a female she fought well.

  Con had allowed himself to become distracted. The void that Ember made as she had snuck off was a cool spot in his psyche.

  However, he could not take after the tart while his nemesis had misconstrued vital elements. Con knew that the Exotic pair now served as trusted advisors to the King and Queen of Vampire: Kier and Holly.

  That fucking bastard. Mate his ass. He'd gotten soft in the head to take a female. Con gave a disgusted snort as Tarrin allowed Lucia to make the killing blow on the Faction who'd have bred a virgin Ember and then killed Con.

  It was an excellent turn of events that Con was now relieved of that adversary.

  Unfortunately, Ember had vanished and he had the full attention of the one vampire on the planet who might have a fighting chance of bringing Constantine down.

  The five Faction who remained backed away further.

  “Your breeder has fled,” Tarrin said, eyeing the Faction who remained, their death in his dark eyes, his words for Con.

  Constantine replied, “She is not my breeder.” His heart belied the words.

  Lucia gave a throaty laugh. “Lie to yourself, Constantine of the Exotics, Mer, Druid and other,” she said, listing his blood identity as though it was something to be proud of instead of persecuted for.

  “Your actions speak truer than the lies to which you cling.” She smirked and he wanted to damage her.

  Tarrin's eyes narrowed at his expression.

  “You will die for your offenses,” Tarrin growled.

  “Against whom?” Constantine asked. />
  “For the death of Desmond, Prince of the Mer, and the kidnapping of the Princess.”

  Right, and monkeys flew out of his ass. Did they know why the fucktard had to die? Constantine began to fold his arms over his muscled chest. He was not able to get thoughts of Ember out of his head. Now he must attempt to convince these two of his innocence... With those distractions, he utterly missed the strike even as a talon plugged him from behind, bursting through his torso on the other side.

  “Fuck!” Con bellowed, pissed he'd been nailed; pissed that it hurt like a reverse vacuum of burning and sucking agony. Then Tarrin met him from the front, taking advantage of his weakened state, the distraction of the Faction a perfect avenue for the Exotic to move toward him like a dark wall of muscle. He was the biggest Druid male Constantine had ever laid eyes on aside from Kier but he moved with grace, regardless of his size.

  Tarrin tore Constantine away from the Faction who'd speared him from behind and tossed him away with one hand on his neck. Con flew, thinking how similar this battle was to the one he'd just suffered through with the Demon, Brolach.

  Fuckers.

  Rage fueled Con and as he flew, he grabbed whatever was within reaching distance.

  It turned out to be Lucia's long mane of hair.

  With a wailing yelp, she went with him, jerked on his momentum through the air and weighing nearly a hundred pounds less, she traveled alongside, her scalp on fire, the golden strands holding.

  Tarrin roared and like a bull, charged.

  But it was too late, the remaining Faction fell on Tarrin like locusts. While his mate was in the arms of the one who had promised an abuse whose punishment deserved a worse consequence than even death.

  Tarrin would mete that out. But first, he must move through the Faction who kept him from his precious Lucia.

  Constantine saw the six Faction swarm Tarrin and smiled at the first break of the night. He fell hard, taking the delicious Lucia with him. Con could have easily allowed her to take the brunt of the impact but wrapped her in the cage of his arms, protecting her in the fall. His blood pumped out of his wound and he lay with her on top of him.