Alexander’s skin blazed with a sudden and intense heat. It had to be forty degrees at most in the tunnels and yet his body burned as though it had been pitched into the epicenter of a forest fire.
Sara.
Paradise and hell pressed sweetly against his cock and his chest. His arms tightened around her. She was everything—his desire, his tormentor, his sparring partner, and his savior, and if he was going to burn for this, so be it.
He pulled his head back and found her mouth again, kissed her hard and furious and hungry, tasting her sweetness and something else he couldn’t describe but that made his cock weep at the tip. He prayed to all who looked down upon him that he could control his need for her blood, that her mouth and her eyes, her words and her honey-sweet cunt could satiate him enough not to go for her vein.
In his history, mating and feeding had never gone together: one was for pleasure, the other for sustenance. With Sara, that custom was for shit. He wanted both, he wanted his cock inside her while he suckled from the spot below her left breast.
On a growl, he eased away, looked at her with her back against the wall, her face tipped up to him, her long lashes fluttering, her blueberry eyes heavy with lust. She was so beautiful, his heart ached to have her—to claim her—completely and always. He smiled at her then, and when she smiled back, he reached for her unbuttoned shirt and splayed the material wide, pulling it down off her shoulders. Then he dropped his head and cut the fastening of her bra with his fangs. Sara’s breasts sprung free, the large, perfect globes lifting and lowering with each breath she took. Alexander stared with shameless hunger at her nipples, pink and rigid. They called to him, as a grown
paven
and as a
balas
who had never been allowed the closeness and care of his mother’s bosom. Her sweet tits begged him to suckle, and he did, drawing on the hard tip, flicking one with his tongue while his fingers played at her other breast.
Sara moaned, arched against him, gripped his scalp with her fingers. “Feel me,” she whispered, taking his hand and placing it between her legs. “Feel what you do to me. How ready I am ...”
She was hot and damp, even through the heavy jean fabric. Alexander nearly lost it. His cock strained, pre-come beading at the head, desperate to find its way into the hot tunnel of her body. He yanked at her jeans, the zipper, pulling the whole mess down to her ankles, growling as she quickly stepped out of the unwanted fabric and stood naked and glorious before him. His mouth found hers again as his hand slid between her thighs. He palmed her, held her in his hand, cursing at the feeling of hot, wet curls tickling his skin. He couldn’t help himself. He let one finger slip between her lips, run lazily over her clit, then slide home, so deep into her cunt her body jerked and she sucked in a breath. Oh God. To be here, he thought, to be buried here for days . . .
“The guards,” she uttered against his mouth, reaching between their bodies for his erection.
Fuck
. Alexander moaned, pumping himself against her hand as he slipped another finger inside her. “They will not. Our scent will keep them away. No male would approach another male during mating, and if they tried, it would be their death.”
“I want you.” Sara reached behind his shaft, cupping his balls. “Now. Inside me.”
Alexander released a feral cry. He could take no more of this play. He lifted her up and placed her down on the head of his cock. The hot slide into her cunt was pure, unimaginable pleasure and his fangs lengthened and pulsed with an all-new flash of desire to feed—like nothing he’d ever experienced before. For a moment, he just held her there, closed his eyes, fought for control over his hunger and let her muscles clench around him. “We’re going to hell for this,” he uttered against her neck, her vein that throbbed with life.
“Good,” she said, clinging to him. “I love to sweat.”
Alexander drew back and took her mouth again, kissed her hard and demanding as he gripped her buttocks and started to move. Slow strokes at first, but as she moaned into his mouth and arched her back, grinding her nipples into his chest, he cried out again and thrust deeper into the slick mouth of her cunt. Her breath was coming quick now and her hot muscles stretched and hummed around his cock. And then he heard her gasp, felt her nails dig into the flesh of his back, and he pumped harder, his mind going numb as her body shook with climax.
As the hot wash of Sara’s orgasm flooded his erection, Alexander knew the true pain of hunger. The starvation of his youth and the intense pain of premorpho was nothing compared to this—his hunger for her. He glanced down, saw his cock disappearing inside her body, saw his balls slam against her ass, felt her muscles convulsing around him. His mind screamed for her blood just as his own rushed through his veins and pooled into his scrotum.
He would come. And when he did he was going to bite her.
“Fuck! Sara . . . Fuck, I need you!”
“Take me, then,” she uttered, jerking her hips against him. “All of me. I’m yours.”
He pushed back, desperate to see her eyes when he exploded inside her. Under heavy lashes, her eyes were blue-black and filled with rapture as she held his gaze. Alexander’s hands tightened on her buttocks, his fingers wet with her come as he drove into her. Over and over, moving with frantic speed, filling her until he thought his mind would explode. And then it did. His jaw went wide, his throat released the call of mating, and he thrust into her so deeply she gasped. Hot seed poured from his prick, and Alexander turned away from the beautiful female in his arms and bit down into the flesh of his own wrist.
27
S
ara felt drugged, sensations and emotions whipping through her at a clipped pace as she tried to figure out what had just happened. Alexander was still inside of her, hard and pulsing, and yet her eyes remained on the gash in his wrist.
“What happened?” she asked, licking her lips as her mind conjured images of closing that wound herself.
“It’s no good.”
“What?”
“It’s not working. Your blood. I have to have it ...” He pulled out of her, panting, his eyes cherry black and ravenous.
Without him, she felt so cold. “In the cage, the meat . . .”
“It’s too late.” He was backing away. “It won’t hold me now. Something’s happened. Something’s been triggered.” He shook his head. “This was . . . a mistake.” He doubled over, gasping. “Fuck.”
She started to go to him.
“No!”
He turned on her, his eyes blazing. His gaze fixated on her breasts, on her nipples still hard and glistening from his kiss. Then his gaze dropped, to the curls between her thighs, wet from his come. His fangs dropped and he roared a painful cry. “Go. Back to your room. Now. Before I bleed you dry.”
Tears pricked her eyes. She grabbed her clothes and ran. She hoped she was going in the right direction, was wearily thankful when she saw the staircase and the door leading to the main house. At the base of the stairs, she dressed at lightning speed, then dashed up the steps and through the door.
Dillon stood there, right in her path, an unreadable expression on her face. “Have fun?”
“Fuck you,” Sara uttered, pushing past her and hustling toward the stairs, wishing she’d never followed Evans, yet at the same time hoping Alexander would come after her again. God, she was stupid. By the time she got to her room, the anger had downgraded into something resembling pathetic despair. Her body felt so empty, her mouth dry. What the hell was happening to her? She pressed her head against the wood, listened to her heart knock inside her throat. The blood. His blood.
Shit
. Had she triggered something inside the both of them by ingesting it? Even those tiny drops?
She brought her hands up, palms splayed on the door. Oh God, she scented him. He was near. Her mouth watered.
No. no.
She pushed away from the door and ran down the hall.
Up.
She needed
up
. She took the stairs two at a time, her breath coming quick. At the top, she turned and ran down the hall toward his room. But something stopped her in her tracks—a figure, crouched near the wall. She began to walk slowly toward it, realizing the closer she got that it was Alexander huddled there. He was outside Bronwyn’s door, his hand gripping the handle. He looked desperate, ravaged, like an injured animal.
Tears welled in Sara’s eyes and she shook her head. “Just do it.”
He looked up at her, his eyes unnatural, filled with a passion that had nothing to do with sex. “You don’t understand,” he uttered hoarsely.
“No?” She moved closer, until her feet were nearly touching his. “Tell me, then.”
“The hunger is too great.” His eyes rolled back as he sniffed the air. “What happened between us destroyed my control.”
“So you want to fuck me and feed from her.”
“No.” He shook, his muscles rippled. “I want only you.”
She stared down at him and whispered the word “Impossible.”
“Sara . . .”
“Remember that word? Impossible? It’s how you thought of us.”
Before she had a chance to take another breath, Alexander reached out, grabbed her wrists, and pulled her down to him. He looked at her, every inch of her face until he held her gaze. His words had an edge to them, a bitter growl. “There’s nothing I want more than to be inside you again, so deep you can barely breathe.” He may have been on his knees, but he was still a creature to be feared. “I want to drink from you while I make you come again and again.” His grip on her tightened; his mouth inched closer, just inches from her own. “But if I feed from you, I won’t be able to stop—not until I’ve consumed every drop of your blood, not until I’ve quieted your heart. With all that you care for in this world, are you willing to take that risk?”
Sara held her breath, tears falling from her eyes onto her cheeks as she fought the need of her body and her heart with the promise she’d given long ago.
“Are you?” he demanded coarsely.
She shook her head.
He leaned in, brushed his mouth against hers. “Impossible.”
Sara pulled away from him. “I can’t stay here.”
“Sara.”
“I won’t stay here and watch while you go into another female’s room and feed from her.” She backed up, tears streaming down her face. “I’m a fool, but I’m no masochist.”
“It’s a feed,” he called after her. “It’s nothing. It’s you going into your kitchen and taking a steak from the—”
“No!” She shook her head. “It’s not.”
She turned and walked away. She wouldn’t glance back. If she saw Bronwyn open her door and touch him, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. It was impossible to deny. Since ingesting Alexander’s blood, a change had occurred within her—just as he had said it would. But the change wasn’t into a corrupt
Imiti
—not yet anyway. It was into a female who felt entirely too comfortable with the idea of slamming her fist into the face of anyone who got too close to her vampire.
She started to run, didn’t stop until she was inside her room. She packed her things in a haphazard manner—wet toothbrush with dry underwear. She didn’t care. She had to go. The danger inside the house had just become greater than the one that waited for her on the outside.
Bags in hand, she left her room and walked down the hall, praying she didn’t run into anything with fangs on her way out.
28
L
ucian leaned into the spray. He liked it hot. Burning-the-skin kind of hot. Made him wonder if morpho would dissuade him from going in the sun or encourage him. Grinning, he shut off the water and grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist.
He was one step inside his bedroom, one foot on the hardwood floor, when his skin twitched violently. In a flash, he reached behind the Hockney on the wall, grabbed his gun, and aimed it at the
veana
standing beside the massive Chinese Evergreen in the corner of the room.
“You almost got your head blown off, princess.”
“That would’ve been most unfortunate,” Bronwyn said, walking toward him, looking imperious and completely unruffled by the weapon in his hand.
Why the hell wasn’t she afraid of him? Lucian mused with irritation. Maybe she knew about his agreement with Alexander, the vow he’d made to keep an eye on her during this handfasting period.
“Coming into a
paven
’s room without his consent, and without a
tegga
.” Lucian clucked. “The
credenti
would not approve.”
“Edel is sleeping, and”—she shrugged—“I did knock.”
“Yet when you got no answer, you decided to break in?”
“It was vital I see you.”
His pale brow lifted. “Was it? How much of me did you wish to see, princess?”
She looked down her nose at him. “Don’t be crude,
paven
. I’ve come to tell you that your brother’s gone.”
Lucian stared at her.
“Alexander,” she said. “He’s not at home.”
“And?”
She walked over to the window. Lucian followed her with his eyes. Those high-heeled boots and jeans she had on were really working for her. “He was outside my door with the human woman, Sara,” she said, her back to the window now, to the heavy snowfall outside. “They were arguing about his need to come to me, drink from me.”
A thread of covetousness moved through Lucian, but he discarded it instantly.
“I heard her say she was leaving for good,” Bronwyn continued. “Alexander seemed very upset about it.”
“And did he?” Lucian asked brusquely. “Did he come to you?”
Bronwyn’s lips pressed together and her gaze dropped to the floor. “No.”
Lucian narrowed his eyes. There was shame in her scent. Had she told Alexander he could drink from her and he declined, rejecting her? Or was there something else? “When was this?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
He glanced at the clock. An hour until dawn. What the hell was Alexander playing at? “You checked the house?”