by Mara Leigh
I dig my fangs into Chelle’s neck. Her skin tastes of sweat and an astringent perfume, but her blood overtakes my senses, and I swallow a few long gulps before I remember my purpose.
Looking up, I make eye contact with Colton. He looks slightly less horrified now, but far from comfortable.
Moaning, Chelle reaches back to stroke my hair. Her other hand slides between her legs and she rubs herself as I feed.
Colton looks away.
I pull out my fangs.
“Watch this part,” Rock says. “It’s important.”
Colton turns back, and I lick the small puncture wounds closed, keeping Chelle’s neck in his view as the wounds seal. Chelle relaxes into the sofa’s corner, asleep with a contented smile on her face.
I make sure she’s comfortable, using a fleece blanket to support her head.
Rock puts his arm over my shoulders, and I turn toward him, tipping my head up for a kiss. He shakes his head, and I fight the powerful need building inside me. I might not be attracted to Chelle, but two feeding so close together with no relief has made me crazy with desire.
It’s nothing compared to how I felt when I fed from Gray or Pike, but feeding from Colton earlier, and now from Chelle with Colton and Rock watching— I need a release so badly. I bite down on my tongue to keep from begging one of these men to give me what I need. Or just taking it.
“Acushla,” Rock says softly. “Why don’t you go upstairs for a while and let Colton and I chat.”
“You okay?” I ask Colton, wanting so badly to kiss him.
In spite of his beliefs, I can tell he’s turned on—his heart rate is up, his pupils dilated and he’s got a telltale bulge at his crotch.
“I’m okay,” he says hoarsely. “But I do have questions.”
“Ask me anything you want,” Rock says. “Anything I don’t know, I can find out. We want you to understand everything about vampires. We both want you to feel secure, safe and comfortable with Selina. And with Gray.”
He nods, our eyes meet—and it might be wishful thinking, but I believe that he wants to figure out a way to feel safe around us too.
Chapter 13
Selina
I close the door to the basement and lean back against it, both wanting and not wanting to hear what they’re saying downstairs. My insides are aflame.
Earlier I felt like I wanted to crawl out of my skin, but now it’s so much worse, like my body’s trying to fight it’s way out, to explode.
I rub my legs together, feeling way too many things all at once—horniness, happiness, but also fear.
Still in the haze of taking Chelle’s blood, I’m not sure I can trust my interpretation of Colton’s reaction. It seemed encouraging, but I can’t bear to think what could happen if he remains unconvinced. If his hatred for vampires grows instead of decreasing. Not to mention his hatred for me.
I trapped him in a basement, and while feedings are naturally beautiful, life-giving and bordering on erotic with the right person, he might still find what he saw repulsive. But he did get a reaction while watching me with Chelle.
I lose the thread of the conversation down below, the need between my legs winning the battle for domination over my thoughts, and I’m not sure I could pick up their voices again if I tried.
Running my hand between my legs makes things worse, and I consider the toy chest in Gray’s bedroom upstairs. Nothing in there could possibly fully satisfy my need right now, but they might be able to dull the ache, and who knows how long Rock will be in the basement. Not that he’ll give me what I most crave, either.
“What’s going on?”
My head snaps up sharply at the sound of Pike’s voice. He’s standing at the entrance to the kitchen, and although the room’s dark, I can make out every solid line of his face, his body.
He shifts. His leather pants creak, and it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard, like his body is calling to me from across the room. I know it’s probably just the after effects of my feeding, not to mention my body missing sex with Gray—something that had become a twice a day minimum habit before he went to jail—but I want Pike.
I need him as strongly as I used to fear him. Maybe more. Even though I still fear him too.
Pike walks toward me, and my entire body flushes and tightens, it pulses with lust and fear I feel in my chest, in my sex, in my throat. The powerful vampire reaches forward, but instead of taking me into his arms, he grabs the doorknob at my side.
“Are you going to get out of my way?” he asks.
“What?” I ask, breathless.
“You’re blocking the door,” he says gruffly. “I sleep down there, remember?”
“Oh. Yeah.” Each word comes out on a thready exhale. I can’t catch my breath for some reason.
Pike’s body, inches from mine, radiates masculinity, heat and raw power, and I need to clench my hands together to keep them off him. “You can’t go down there.”
“Why not?”
I hang my head, feeling the full shame of trapping Colton. In the face of my former captor I’m overcome with remorse.
“Someone’s down there,” he says flatly. “Rock and…” He lifts his head. “There’s a human in the basement.”
I nod. “It’s the cop I’ve been seeing. Colton.”
Pike frowns and tips his head to the side.
“Colton remembered that Gray was a vampire. He came to warn me, so I told him the truth—about me.”
Pike glares at me. “You did what?” His voice is full of accusation, but as I look into his eyes I see more fear than admonishment.
“Rock is talking to Colton. Answering his questions.”
“And the other human?” He sniffs the air. “A female.”
“I fed from her. To show Colton that it’s harmless. She’s sleeping it off.” I swallow, hard. “Rock will convince him. Colton will understand.”
Pike shakes his head, then leans on the door, his forearm stretched on the flat surface above my head. Our faces are close now. So close I could kiss him, and my lips tingle with desire.
“Don’t be afraid,” he says.
“I’m not.” But I am. And part of that fear exists because I want Pike to take me. I want him to relieve my urgent need, and if I’m honest I’ve been wanting that from Pike for a long time. This desire is more than just my current state.
“No matter what happens down there,” he says, “I will protect you. Anyone who wants to harm you will have to kill me first.”
I gasp, drawing in a breath that carries on it his musk. Pike didn’t mean that I shouldn’t fear him or the sex I so badly want from him. He was talking about fearing Colton.
“I’ll do anything to keep you safe,” he says deeply. “Anything.”
The word anything strokes my insides with even more desire, and I lick my lips, unable to control my tongue’s movement.
Unable to control my hands either, I grab hold of the leather at Pike’s waist, loving the worn texture under my fingers and palms.
A low rumble erupts from his chest.
“Remember that last day in the dungeon?” I say softly, looking up at him, although he’s staring at the door above me. “Remember what you told me?”
He grunts quietly, as if he’s trying to muffle the sound.
“You told me that one day you’d fuck me. And that I’d beg you to do it.” My breaths are so shallow and fast now, I’m having trouble getting the words out. “Well this is it, Pike. This is me, asking, begging for you to take me. I need to feel you inside me. I need it now.”
I slide my hands over his ass, and the muscles clench under my touch. Our eyes meet and my insides contract. In spite of everything, the way Pike looks at me sends terror racing through my veins. It’s the same way he used to look at me in the baths, in the dungeons—so animalistic and as if he’s as likely to devour as fuck me. He’ll probably do both.
He backs away from the door, and I gasp, a sharp cry like I’m a kid deprived of her favorite toy.
“My way,” he says roughly.
“Your way?” I push off the wall, my legs wobbly, like we’ve already been fucking for hours.
“I’ll give you what you so obviously need,” he says. “But it has to be my way. What I want.”
My entire body trembles with fear, with desire. His way will be violent. He’ll use me in ways I can only begin to imagine, and I flash back to some of the horrible things done to me in that dungeon.
I don’t know which acts, if any, Pike was responsible for—he claims none, except his fingers during that last marriage ceremony—but I tell myself it will be different now. Even if he’s rough and cruel, it will be different because I’ve offered my consent.
“Fine. Your way.” I nod as I move toward him.
“You can’t touch me.” He steps back. “Not until I tell you it’s okay.”
I nod.
“Say it.” His voice isn’t as harsh and demanding as I expect, it’s more like he’s pleading with me, like I’m the one with all the power and he’s the one who needs to feel safe.
But his body tells another story. The vast expanse of his shoulders and chest under that black T-shirt, the power pent up in his slim waist and hips and those thick hard thighs… Not to mention the bulge pressing against the leather at his groin, threatening me with its own need.
“We’ll do it your way.” My voice trembles with fear and anticipation. “I won’t touch you. I won’t do anything until you tell me it’s okay.”
He nods, his expression softening, just a bit—nothing that could ever be called a smile, but he does seem less intimidating for a moment.
“Come.” He turns away from me, and I follow. Pike walks up the stairs toward the second floor. The mounds of his ass slide under the leather and tempt me, but I keep my promise and my hands to myself.
Stopping where the stairs curve, he touches the wall. A panel opens revealing another staircase behind.
“How did you know about this?” I ask. I thought I’d seen the whole house once Gray finally let me into his bedroom.
“Gray showed me.” He starts up a narrow staircase, much more rustic than everything else in the house.
We turn four times, climbing high, passing a door that I assume leads to the attic, or perhaps servants quarters, then through another door. The stairs become steeper, almost like a ladder.
“You first.” He gestures for me to climb ahead of him, and I comply, even though my heart is thumping through my chest. I’m afraid, so afraid, but my pulse is also pounding between my legs.
He follows so closely behind me that his body is against mine as we climb, my ass brushing against him and his hands near mine on the rungs. Near the top, he steps onto the same narrow tread as me, and then reaches above us.
He pushes open a hatch the reveals the night sky.
“The roof?” I try to turn to see him, but the space is too tight, and I can’t see his face. Our bodies are pressed closely together. I don’t want to move and break the connection.
I’ve felt Pike’s fingers inside me, his thumb on my clit, and right now I want his entire body inside me. I’m not sure when I’ve ever felt quite so blindly turned on. I rub my ass against him, find his hard ridge and press harder.
“My way,” he growls in my ear. “That counts as touching. Get on the roof.”
Reluctantly, I climb out, but barely take in the space, my attention is entirely on Pike as he leaps from the hatch. Moonlight bathes his face and flashes in his amber eyes, and it’s all I can do to keep from leaping into his arms.
From the street, you’d never know that Gray’s house had this section of flat roof hidden between the four peaked towers. But it’s a cozy space, decorated with some benches and chairs, including a chaise longue. The house is the highest in the neighborhood. For anyone to see us up here, they’d have to have a telescope trained on us from a condo tower more than a kilometer away.
“Take off your clothes,” he says roughly.
I tug up my shirt.
“Jeans first.”
I suck in a breath, surprised at how his commands are increasing my already heightened arousal. I climb out of my shoes and jeans quickly, kicking them to the side.
“Panties too.”
I pull down my underwear and they land right next to my jeans. The night air tickles my pubic hair and I spread my legs slightly, letting the cool air brush over my slick wetness.
What will Pike do to me? How rough and hard will he take me? My juices drip from inside me as I wait and wonder, consumed by my need.
“Now your shirt.”
I pull off the T-shirt, but before I can discard it he says, “Throw it here.”
I toss the garment across the six feet between us. He brings it to his nose and inhales deeply, and I swear I see the bulge in his pants pulse and grow—and the size of it, while nothing like Rock’s, is starting to send terror through me as I remember seeing it each time he saw me in the baths, or led me up to my mating ceremonies.
He shifts, and moonlight licks his mound, and I’m jealous of the light, wanting to trace my fingers and tongue over his hardness for myself.
“Come.” He gestures me forward, and in an instant I’m against him.
He steps back. “No touching.” He frowns.
He leads me under a pergola that must have provided shelter from the sun for some previous homeowner. Using my clothes as weapons against me, he drapes my jeans over a beam, ties my wrists together with my T-shirt, then ties the jeans around the shirt so my arms are stretched above my head, my entire body exposed to him.
I spread my legs as wide as I can and writhe, hoping I’ll feel that cock inside me soon. At this point, I don’t care if he hurts me. I don’t care if he splits me in half. Even excruciating pain would be welcome when compared to my overwhelming need.
Pike’s gaze travels over my body slowly, seeming to take in every inch from my toes to my scalp, even up to my fingers high above my head. Then he walks around me and I turn my head to keep him in sight.
“Face forward,” he says.
I obey, then tip back my hips, arching, preparing for penetration, but instead his fingers land gently on my throat. They trace up and down its length, so tenderly, so expertly, it almost makes me come.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs as his hands draw lower, gliding over my back, exploring every inch of my skin so slowly and carefully, like I’m a porcelain doll he might crack with too much pressure.
His calluses lightly abrade my skin as his hands move farther down to skim my ass, my hips, my thighs. His fingers trace everywhere on my body except where I want them. They run up and down my quivering legs, but stop short each time they graze past the damp skin of my aching sex.
While he’s still behind me, his hands explore my front too, tracing up my shins, over my knees, my pelvis and belly, then dancing softly around my breasts, so heavy with need. My nipples are hard rocks that sting and spark at his slightest touch.
His hands strum my throat, trace my pulsing vein, then his body shifts to where I can see him again, but my vision is cloudy, misted over by lust and pleasure, and I close my eyes to heighten the sensations as he explores me—touching, stroking, so soft and respectful I almost forget to anticipate the brutality sure to follow.
Small mewling sounds escape from my lips, and my hips gyrate, out of my control. I knew that he’d hurt me, but never expected this kind of torture. I could easily break free from the bindings holding my arms aloft, but I fight the urge. I agreed to do this his way and plan to keep my word in case disobedience makes him stop.
“Fuck me.” The words emerge from my subconscious, and I squeeze my lips together to prevent them from emitting anything else.
“I plan to.” Bending, he takes one of my nipples between his lips.
My back arches and I rise onto my toes trying to get the tip further inside his hot mouth. His tongue swirls, his lips kiss, and then his fingers tease the other breast so it won’t be jealou
s.
Time stops as this breast play continues, his mouth transferring from one to the other, over and over, each time leaving one sensitive nipple damp in the fresh night air, only to be soothed by his hand as it cries out for relief from the nibbles and sucking but wanting more.
Eventually leaving both breasts, his hands slide down my torso.
I open my eyes, and he’s kneeling in front of me.
My sex pulses with joyous anticipation. As badly as I want his hard cock driving inside me, his mouth or his fingers will be a welcome substitute. An erotic prelude to the main act.
He drapes one of my legs over his shoulder, leaving me unbalanced as the remaining one fights to find solid footing. And before I feel fully secure, he clamps his arm over my thigh and traps it against his shoulder, as the fingers of his other hand slide through my slick folds.
My head drops back and a moan erupts as his fingers tease my entrance, graze my clit, touch me with such light pressure it’s hard not to scream.
After what feels like a lifetime of this torturous tease, his finger pushes inside me. I instantly come, my contractions greedily grabbing onto his digit as he slowly slides it inside me.
A low growl erupts from inside him, then he adds a second finger sliding them into me with slow, strong strokes.
I look down, our eyes meet, and there’s so much tenderness in his eyes—tenderness, admiration and what I can only identify as wonder. He looks as if he’s discovered another culture, another species, another planet. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so special, so precious, and I want this feeling to go on forever.
Afraid he’ll break eye contact, I avoid blinking as he continues to work his fingers, exploring me from the inside. My pelvis pulses forward to meet each thrust, but his grip on my thigh, trapped over his shoulder, is so tight I have little range of movement.
His thumb finds my clit and rests there, increasing its pressure each time his fingers dive, and then I’m stretched as he adds a third finger, possibly all four.