Boarding School 3

Yes, the main character, and all other consequential characters, are of legal age and older.

*

"Are you serious about this?" I asked Boss as I paced through his room, my footfalls heavy with my anxiety. He watched me with those dark blue eyes of his, partially hidden behind the fall of his dark blond bangs. Boss was perpetually in need of a trim, but I never minded that. The shadows in the room always played lovingly across his masculine features, the curtain of his hair casting even deeper shadows over his eyes, giving him that rugged, bad-boy look. And Boss was always good at living up to that image. But no matter how wet my panties got from his watching me, it couldn't pull my mind away from what he expected me to do. "How could you do this? Especially some place like that."

"Look, War," Boss started, voice deep and calm, "we need one of our own inside that place and you're the only one who—"

"Is this because I slipped up on that last fucking mission? You're throwing me to the wolves!"

He kept his level gaze on me, so blasé, so unfazed. There were reasons why he was in charge and I wasn't. I could never fully pull off that cloyed facade in the face of a tempest. "As I was saying, you're the only one who can blend in with them." And then he stepped toward me, his movements like a stalking beast, such contained power in that swaggering stride. His six-and-a-half towered over my five-four and as he brought his hand up to cup my cheek, his palm nearly engulfed the whole side of my face.

I traced my top lip with the tip of my tongue. "Oh," was all I could think to say at that point. When he eyed my lips like that, it pushed a lot of my thoughts out of my head and all I could think of was his lips on mine, his lips on my breasts, his lips between my legs. Mine between his.

He began lowering his face to mine, as he spoke his breath feathered across my lips. "You will do this mission to the best of your abilities, War." I hummed an agreement and he leaned closer. "And you will do anything it takes to get through it." Another humming agreement, another inch closer. "And you will do it with the help of Nathaniel as the SEMI."

I hummed— I stopped him. "Wait, what?" I pushed at his shoulders, shoving him from me. My extra strength was the only reason he gave way. "What do you mean Nathaniel is the SEMI?"

There was a small twitch at the corner of his luscious lips, as though Boss were laughing at me. "We needed to do recon and he was already in position. The only thing now is that he can't get any closer to the target without risk of exposure, or in the least, physical threat. It wouldn't do to have your only possible backup working at less than peak performance."

SEMI was an acronym for Sanctioned Enemy Movement Informant. They were our versions of moles. The only thing was that the prey we hunted could tell with less than a glance if someone was one of their kind or not. Unlike the CIA who can scruff up an agent and send him in to the lion's den, if we tried sending in one of Boss's men, they would get eaten by the lion, literally. Then again, it is a tough job trying to spy on Vampires. In order to not lose a SEMI beneath a pair of fangs, your SEMI needed to have a pair of their own. And finding a Vampire willing to spy for Hunters is difficult, bordering on impossible.

So why would this Nathaniel be a SEMI? Because his only real family left, his cousin, was a Huntress named Serenity. Despite having not seen her in over a decade, he would do just about anything for her. And Boss had a knack for praying off of others' weaknesses to get what he wanted. As he did with me and his lean-too-close move just now. I clearly have a weakness for sex. Not my fault, mind you. It's just my nature.

Back to the issue at hand. Boss needed a certain school to be entered into with caution and his gut told him he was on a time limit.

"I need you to get close to the target. Your objective is both distraction and information gathering. Boss, whose real name was Mike, had his fit butt braced casually against the edge of his desk as he faced me. He turned at the waist and leaned back to grab a folder off the other side of the massive ornate desk, his molded-to-perfection shirt showing off every dip and ripple of muscle in his torso.

A small sigh of appreciation slipped from my lips.

When he faced me again, he held out the folder and I took it. Inside was picture of a grown teen paper-clipped to the pages of information on him. He was Asian in orientation, translucent pearly skin flawless. His features were liked marble carved to perfection. No doubt he was a Born Vampire. Only Born Vampires had that sort of unearthly beauty to them. Turned Vampires—those made from humans—tended to look more pasty, almost with an undertone of gray, and they were never flawless. Mostly, Turned Vampires were used as grunts, slaves to the Purebreeds—Born Vampires of the highest aristocracy. By the arrogance of the boy's eyes, the slightest sneering lift of his upper lip, I would say the picture I was looking at was a Purebreed. He was of average height—Asians did tend to be smaller scales, even Vampires. His body was fit, muscles lean and wiry. His hair was a deep black, like it's been swallowing shadows since the day he was born.

Everything about him was a panty-dropper, but it was his eyes that were most alluring. Large and dark, nearly as black as his hair, the corners pinched in a slight tilt. Japanese eyes.

"That's the target," Boss said, his voice a deep rumble. "Kiba Shinjo. Do what you can to get close to him and find out what he's up to. The SEMI will assist in any way possible, so long as it doesn't endanger his position."

I closed the folder and nodded. My thoughts were so stuck on our SEMI, Nathaniel, that I didn't realize Boss was so close until his hands slipped around my waist, gripping my butt in a tight squeeze as he pulled me against him. His dick was hard and pushed against my belly deliciously. A low moan escaped my throat.

"You're going to be careful, aren't you, War?" He bent at the shoulders, bringing his face down to nuzzle the sensitive skin between my neck and shoulder. I gave him another moan and nodded. I would do anything if he would keep that up.

His tongue peeked out and tickled up to my jaw. I tilted my head back to give him better access.

"You'll be a good girl, won't you." His words were less a request and more a demand. One hand slipped up and around to grope my breast, tweaking my nipple through the thin cotton of my T-shirt. I gave him what he wanted, another moan and nod. His lips brushed up my jaw and closed in to mine. "Good girl." And he took possession of my lips, bruising in his force, his tongue slipping into my mouth and demanding my taste.

My head spun under his assault that I didn't know I was moving until my back was on his desk, his papers scattered on the floor and his hips forcing their way between my legs. I opened myself to him eagerly. My pleated skirt gave room for his body and he slipped a hand down to my core, rubbing my pussy through the cotton of my thong. I wasn't much for satin and lace; I loved the softness of cotton, especially the kind that had been through the washer hundreds of times and was as soft as a chick's down. Cotton also gave way better than lace so I could feel the callousness of his fingers as he flicked them over my clit.

I cried out as I rocked my hips against his hand, fingers digging into his shoulders as he moved his lips from mine to my neck, my chest, my breast. His other hand came up and shoved my shirt to my throat, exposing my naked breasts. Unless I had to fight, I never wore a bra. And by the growl vibrating in his throat, Boss enjoyed that about me very much. His lips latched on to one rosy nipple and I cried out again, feeling each lash of his tongue against the sensitive peak. Boss was a breast man and he spent a lot of time lavishing my nipples, sensitizing them further, bringing me to the point that one small brush of lips was nearly painful against the swollen buds. And the whole time he sucked at me, his fingers worked my pussy, making my juices flow.

With a grunt he tore himself away from my breast and moved back. I cried out an objection, but then his hands hooked into the band of my thong and pulled them down my legs violently. Then his hands were at his own waist, unsnapping his jeans, yanking down the fly and releasing his cock. It was hard as stone, the engorged head purple with need, the veins pulsing in time to his raging heart.

And I could feel his heartbeat within my own chest, could hear the ebb and flow of each pump. I opened my legs for him, braced my heels on the edge of his desk, and watched him as he came over me, shoving himself half way in with one powerful stroke, hitting to the hilt on the second stroke. Boss was not a small man in any way. Of all the men I've fucked, he was the most endowed, and the most vigorous. Boss fucked me with abandoned, each heavy stroke painful as it not only bumped my cervix, but battered it. I grunted in my pain, arching my back as it caused sharp jolts centering in my lower back. And I loved every second of it.

He was sweating now, salty drops snaking down his temple, cascading down his back, across his chest. His dark blue eyes were indigo, shining in his heat, his passion. Boss liked rough sex, he liked pounding into a female with all his brutal strength. He liked things primal and hard. And I was the only one he could release that need into, unless he went looking for a submissive in a BDSM club. Boss had tried dating the good little women around town, but when it came to sex, he came out wanting, needing more. He'd hurt a few in the midst of passion and was sorry for it, but he couldn't change his nature with any of them. He didn't have to change that nature with me. He could be as rough as he wanted to be. He could slam his cock full-tilt into me and I could take it. He could set his teeth into my shoulder and leave a mark that would scar and bruise a normal female for weeks on end and I could deal.

And as he grabbed a fistful of my hair and jerked my head back, the sharp angle playing hell on my spine, the only thing I could think of was More. I loved the feel of it, loved him in his brutality, his passion, his primal existence. This was the man that, when you stripped him of his control and his polite human etiquette, was the truest form of Mike.

Mike came with a roar that would have had a Lycan thinking he was one of them if their noses didn't know better. Then one last shove brought our hips tight together, the head of his massive cock shoving through the opening of my cervix and releasing his seed straight into my womb.

It was good that my father had me on a certain mixture of chemicals that kept me from breeding for the time being.

After we were through and had his desk in order, Mike fixed up his trousers and we faced each other again. Sex and work was easy to separate because we didn't love each other. We simply blew off steam or satisfied our bodies on each other in order to get back to work. Or, in Mike's case, used his sensual wiles to get what he wanted out of me; like me agreeing to do something for him could have a potentially lethal backfire.

"Kiba Shinjo originates from Okinawa, Japan. Parents are Kouru and Aoi Shinjo," Boss started. "There's not much information we received: Nathaniel is more of a science expert than a computer guru. But his location requires files on each attendant. Files which remain confidential to only a selected few of the Boarding Committee. I need you to send what you can back to me. I'll decide on how to go about it from there." He sat in his leather chair behind his ebony desk and stared at me with those cold, hard eyes of his. "As soon as you're in, Nathaniel will be more free to move about. He'll be our middleman. If I have something for you, Nathaniel will be the messenger. And the same with you for me. I don't want anything left out."

I nodded, absorbing his words and the feel of the timber of his voice. The vibrations of his deep voice hit a cord in my body and had my thong flooded with more than just his semen running out of me. But there would be time later for another romp in the office. For now I needed to head into a school with a lot of hormonal teen Vampires prowling the halls and help out one hormonal teen Vampire in particular with no more defense than my own two hands.

Then again, I'm sure Nathaniel would be at my side should I ever crook a finger. Why? Because he would do anything for his cousin Serenity. As Boss had already displayed.

I am a Huntress and my name is Serenity "War" Raith-Tepes. I am one of the only family Nathaniel has left in the world and Boss has used that to his advantage.

People really suck, you know. And I don't just mean Vampires.

After a few more short minutes of mission briefing and a short plane ride, I was in a limo and on my way to the location of the mission's target.

My name is Serenity, but only a handful of people know me by that name. To everyone else in the Vampire and Hunter communities, I'm known as War. I was born in the heart of Transylvania and travel the world due to my job, mainly taking up residence in parts of America—which is where Mike is stationed. I've known Mike all my life, though I've only worked under him for a couple of years; much to the protests of other Hunters. (They're not too keen on the idea of my kind working for theirs.) Mike used to be the agent at the center of infiltration missions, back in the day where that meant get in, set the bomb, get out, set it off. Now that he's boss, he's made a few changes, and though those changes have brought the Hunters a Hell of a lot farther along than they used to be, those who still believe in the old-school logic of human good, Vampire staked, like to bitch and moan about Vampires being used on their side.

Their complaints were noted and ignored. Mike, Boss, was no man to fool with. He was smart, poised, calm, and decisive; the epitome of intellectual hunters. His instincts were always spot on and his word was law. Even at the age of 43 he was in the peak of fighting condition; fit body, fast reflexes, sharp mind. He was the head of the Hunters in his area of America, taking up three and a half States for his local jurisdiction and even further of that for investigating jurisdiction. He was a god among Hunters and wherever he pointed, I went. He was my boss, which meant I always had to do as he says. Which I sometimes don't, but only if my way would get the job done better. After all, I know the inner workings of Vampires a lot more intimately than he did.

Normally when it came time for him to pass out assignments, I'd take my with grumbling reluctance and do as I should. After all, usually undercover work for me meant going in as one of the participants of an underground fight ring, or as a private dancer for some hot-shot Vamp that needed assassinating. That wasn't the case this time. And my reasons for arguing back on this particular mission were clearly justifiable: One, the place I was being sent to was a private school, which meant strict uniform dress codes. Two, this was an all male boarding school. And three, this was an all male Vampire boarding school.

The reason Boss would put me in such a place is because, as he said earlier, I'm the only one that can blend in with them.

And just so you know, male parts have nothing to do with it—I'm strictly female. It's an entirely different protruding part of my anatomy that volunteered me for entering a Vampire school.

My fangs.

All Hunters, save one, are humans. I'm that saved one. I'm a Vampire, or at least half of me is. But despite the non-Vampire blood in me, other Vamps tend to read me as a Purebreed. That's because the Vampire blood running through my veins is from the purest source of their—our—existence. But that comes later.

The school, St. Crimson Academy, was established around 40 years ago, and since then it has been under the hidden eyes of the Hunters in its area, which just so happens to be just on the outskirts of Mike's jurisdiction. And Mike, being the head of the Hunting Cell, with the largest success rate in middle America, was put in charge of surveying St. Crimson and throwing together and executing any operations required on the academy.

From the outside, the school looks just like any other rich-bred, over-the-top private school around. Everything about it screams normal, that is, if you're of the millionaire-and-up variety. Hell, even the classes were docked with normal learning sessions and basic agendas. That was, until Boss was informed around a month ago about some suspicious activity revving up with the arrival of a certain new student; Kiba Shinjo—my target. According to Boss, after the report was submitted, he sent out feelers for any possible SEMI who could get in to that very guarded school. Only one took root; Nathaniel.

The only problem now is that Nathaniel, despite being a Born Vampire and having a Purebreed as a father, is nothing more than a Born Vampire with muddy veins to the aristocracy world. And because of that particular social rug burn, he's unable to get closer to the Vampire in question. And even if it would get him closer to our goal, Nathaniel would rather take a Holy Water bath than forsake his mother's blood. Not that he's the only one who feels that way, so I have no reason to be bitchy about that.

A little info on Nathaniel: Nathaniel Jacobs was born to my uncle's mistress, a servant who washed bed linens for her Masters and Mistresses. Since his birth Nathaniel was treated as less than trash and thought of just as fondly by the Elders of our kind. Mostly because his father was mated to a particular female Purebreed chosen by the collective Elders. It was basic tradition, and mistresses were common within such couplings, but it was the first time that a mistress was chosen from among such lowly a group as the slave class. It didn't help either that his father's mate was one of the Elder's daughters. For her replacement lover to be from the bottom of the heap was not only an insult to her, but a dishonor to her entire Clan.

Not that Uncle Vaughn cared much. He was in love with Michelle Jacobs. His mating to Karisma la Pree was a formality, one that he treated with a polite distance.

Despite his admirable respect for his unwanted mate, Uncle Vaughn's indiscretion and the result of it was still treated as a parasite. One that was taken care of the moment Uncle Vaughn died defending his lover. The moment Nathaniel no longer had any direct ties to the purity of the Clan, he and his mother were fallen upon like wounded antelope. The only thing that saved them from beheading was my father. So instead of giving their lives, the two were banned from Europe and sent away with nothing more than the clothes on their backs.

Not that that kept me from sending them a little something once they found a place to settle down. And apparently Michelle had kept what I sent her in a savings account, building it up for payment on her son's education. That was how Nathaniel had managed to get in to such a school as St. Crimson.

I should have known. Left to his own devices, Nathaniel would have chosen to leave school entirely and work his hands to the bone simply to support his mother, who he hated to see work.

But all of that was his reason as to why he couldn't get any closer to Shinjo. I, on the other hand, would have no such obstacle. In fact, my bloodline guaranteed me a spot in an academy solely for male students. Though there are very few left who knew of my mother—an even smaller number than of those who know my first name—the lineage of my father overrode any speculation of my heritage. After all, it's hard to look past the fact that my father is the first Vampire, the source of all of their bloodlines. Original name forgotten to the world, he simply goes by Vladimir Dracula Tepes now. But he's simply Father to me.