Blood Crown

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  Tessa’s heartbeats pile up. “You’re not...” She struggles to not sound stupid and further embarrass herself. “Grossed out?”

  Laz squeezes her wrists, and Tessa can feel his immense strength, as well as the fine degree of control he has over it. “I do not know this expression?”

  “It—you came upon me when I was naked and covered with blood from my kill. I was so weak...”

  “From carrying me,” Laz states, raising a dark-red brow.

  She nods, not wanting him to feel bad, but even when she was in wolfen form, she was weakened by the sheer physicality of carrying a large male.

  “I had to feed, and I figured we were far enough away from Lanarre territory to replenish—anyway.” Tessa finds she’s pinned by her braid and twists her head, flinging it from beneath her. “I thought you’d be disgusted by me.” Her sentence ends in a whisper.

  “My Redemptive.”

  Tessa’s eyes move back to Laz. His shine almost silver in the moonlight that casts him in shadows. Shame fills her, though that’s a dumb response, and Tessa knows it. For fuck’s sake—he joined her in the feed.

  “You are an honest and beautiful creature with needs. Perfectly suited to my own.” He tips his head back, gifting her with a languid smile.

  His fingers release her, lightly traveling a path down the insides of her arms and intersecting beneath the fullness of her breasts.

  A riot of gooseflesh breaks out from his touch, pebbling her nipples as though they beg for his attention, having a mind of their own.

  Speaking of that.

  Laz grows hard before her eyes, splitting her wet folds with his length and breadth.

  Sucking in a breath, Tessa asks in a soft voice, “I thought you said...”

  “Perhaps I spoke too soon.” Laz grins slowly, cupping her breasts almost savagely.

  The surprise of his movement causes her back to arch into the gesture.

  Squeezing her right breast, he bends deeply over her body and takes most of her breast into his mouth.

  “Oh my G—”

  Laz bites down gently.

  “Right,” she breathes through the pleasure-pain sensation.

  Pulling her breast taut, his mouth slowly releases her nipple with a pop, his hand still holding the soft flesh of her in his hand.

  “The animal sustains me.”

  At first, Tessa thinks beast, because she is Were, and that’s the only headspace she owns.

  Then she understands what he meant as she watches the wounds from the lashing that still wrap his flanks, ribcage, and shoulders begin to close. The blood that covers Laz is no longer fresh from his own body but remains as proof of their kill.

  “Oh, Laz,” she says, gripping his forearms, “we can’t make love covered in blood.”

  “There is no better way,” Lazarus remarks, and the demonic within peeks out, his eyes flashing like black oil in a face that is carved ivory by the moon.

  Tessa can’t say no. Not after what he went through for her. Not after she dragged him to safety.

  For what? Well... forever. Or as long as their lives will go.

  His eyes flash back to silver, and he grabs her by the shoulders. Tessa melts to quarter change with a groan.

  Scooping her from the ground, he rests back on his heels and, spreading her thighs, holds her above his straining prick.

  “What say you, my Redemptive?”

  Tessa grips his shoulders, so slick with her own arousal that she doesn’t need anything else from him.

  Just this.

  Planting her legs on either side of his body, she plunges down on the spear of his cock, and they both groan from the sudden pleasure of penetration.

  “Yes,” Laz hisses.

  Tessa grips the back of his neck, fingers sinking into blood, sweat, and hair.

  Laz arches, pumping deeper inside her. Gripping her butt, he lifts Tessa, sliding her slowly, oh so slowly, up and down his rigid length.

  Then Laz is kissing her as he’s buried within her. The texture and form of his forked tongue doesn’t stop Tessa from savagely exploring the hot wetness of his mouth.

  Delicious heat. The tang of copper is a succulent undertone to the kiss.

  “Hang from me,” Laz says, and Tessa secures her arms around his neck.

  Laz stands with her dead weight, still impaled inside her, and she automatically wraps her legs around his waist.

  “All healed?” she asks breathlessly, frantically kissing his face and jaw, dipping to peck, then licking at his neck. She is ravenous for Laz.

  “Enough to take you.”

  Cupping her hips, Laz fucks her as he stands, lifting her body off himself and slamming her down.

  Over and over.

  Her breathing becomes shallow, hard. “Laz!” Tessa yells as her orgasm crashes into them both.

  “Darkness,” Laz mutters in a voice gone low with his need. “Your heat chokes me.”

  Tessa’s smile is sly. But she doesn’t have long to feel smug. Laz changes his rhythm. Holding the back of her neck, he leans back, grinding up against her hips.

  A foot or so separates them, but they’re so tightly connected, Tessa can’t feel herself. It’s them.

  Only them.

  “Again,” Laz commands and swivels his hips up high, striking her deeply, rubbing that sweet spot.

  The feeling of swelling pleasure begins to build again. “Don’t stop.”

  “Never.”

  Tessa explodes around him, pulsing and grabbing at what fills her.

  “Now,” Laz says, drawing her against him and thrusting a final time.

  Hot seed fills Tessa, and she lays her face against his shoulder as they strain together, struggling for even more closeness, frozen in that moment of closure and pleasure.

  Finally Tessa asks, “Are you okay?” Lifting her head and searching his eyes.

  Laz chuckles. “Now you ask?”

  Softening, he pulls out of Tessa and cups her face. “Is that a real question. I took you standing—easily.”

  Tessa feels her face heat. “Yeah, that was... impressive.”

  Laz’s smile is satisfied. “I could do so much more if I were at my fullest.”

  She arches a brow. “That’s you not feeling great?”

  He takes her hand and, without breaking eye contact, raises it to his lips. Instead of kissing, he rolls his face against the top of her hand then turns his head until his lips press against the flesh. “No,” he breathes against her skin.

  Tessa’s core blooms for him.

  Laz’s head jerks up. “I love that the flower of you seeks my touch again, so soon.” Laz pulls her against him, and Tessa turns her face, laying it against his smooth, broad chest.

  “You make my heat flare,” she admits quietly.

  “I am glad.”

  Tessa thinks she can hear a smirk in his tone. Tessa leans back, searching his utterly somber expression. “Are you making fun of me?”

  He shakes his head. “No. All demonic are literal creatures. We do not ʻmake fun.ʼ”

  The seriousness of his words are shrapnel to her heart. “Oh, Laz, I’m so sorry.” She barely feels his shrug, it’s so slight.

  “That is what it is to be demonic.”

  “I know... I guess. But it’s so heavy. There’s never anything to lighten life.”

  “We do not live. We exist to torture.” Laz’s eyebrows rise, and he is backlit by a sky that has grown lighter, night being chased by the coming day.

  Tessa shakes her head. “That’s not living anything. It’s like a purpose without merit.”

  “Oh what I accomplished did have merit. What I do now has something deeper than the sheer checks and balance of the universe’s justice.”

  “What?” Tessa asks, gripping his hand as the first rays of daylight break the sky into a million shards of pale-golden perfection.

  “The rarest gift of all.”

  Lazarus’s hands slide down her arms, and cupping her waist, he pulls her
to him, one hand moving to her nape as he whispers the answer to her question.

  “Freedom.” His fingers tighten, and he softly kisses the shell of her ear. “To love.”

  Tessa’s eyes shut as she snuggles against her mate.

  Home is not a place, but a hidden chamber within the heart.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Julia

  Julia folds her arms. Unbelievable. “I don’t like it.” Domi doesn’t roll his eyes. Julia doesn’t believe the Sidhe warrior would lower himself, but the struggle not to appears obvious.

  “What if Tharell doesn’t mind being mated to Delilah?” Scott asks, and Julia won’t need to use her mind-reading ability to understand that Scott is trying to work on an option that gets his newly discovered half-sister out of Faerie.

  Singers do fine here, but Faerie seems to have a good dose of prejudice for other species. And it’s impossible to take the vampire out of Delilah. It appears that Jacqueline got a pass only because she has a ton of Fey blood. Hashna is proof of that.

  “So let me clarify my understanding. Tharell can survive outside the Fey mound if Delilah and he—got married?” Julia asks.

  “Mated,” Domi corrects with a slight chin dip.

  “I’m not sure I understand what the difference is.”

  Scott turns to her. “It’s not really important, Julia.”

  Julia glares. “I want the why, babe.”

  Scott chuckles. “Okay, hell—leave some gristle next time.”

  She feels her face soften. “I’m sorry, but God, this is so awful. I mean, our choices seem so limited. Whenever someone needs to be rescued or helped—saved—whatever, there’s this big messy ordeal that has to happen first.”

  Domi frowns, his silver eyes glinting at her. “That is the way of it.”

  Julia sighs. Yeah. That.

  “Okay,” she swishes her palm back and forth, visually cutting off the non-winnable argument, “So... I’ll seek another audience?” Julia looks to Domi, and he nods. “Where I’ll promise—I don’t know... upward of ten Singers who are of mixed thought processes about being shared or married or whatever.”

  “Provide a timeline, Blooded Queen.”

  “Not easy.” Scott scrubs a hand over his short dark hair. “We are human beings. Julia and I can’t just return to One and order people to become studs and brood mares of the fey.”

  Domi’s brow puckers. “You are no more human than myself.”

  “Semantics,” Julia says. “I understand exactly what Scott’s saying. We will be very convincing, but I don’t want to manipulate our people. There’s too many variables that can happen once they’re here. I can’t predict the future, and I don’t want to. I want assurances they’ll be okay once they're here. And I have to say, after meeting that Unseelie group, it’s sketchy.”

  “Same for Jacqueline—I want assurances too,” Scott adds.

  Domi gives him an unfriendly look. “I am a Sidhe warrior. I can protect my mate and the child she has gifted our union with. There is no need for assurance beyond that.”

  Scott crosses his arms over his powerful chest, and Julia senses his restrained fury through their meld. “But you haven’t claimed her.”

  Julia touches the fey above his heart. “Maybe you’ve done it here, but these Unseelie guys?” She drops her hand. “They’re hardcore. Everything is a bunch of double-talk.”

  Again, Domi seems unperturbed. “This is the way of the Unseelie court. I will admit, it is sometimes a difficult thing to navigate.”

  Sometimes.

  Scott snorts.

  Domi ignores him. “I’ve offered some suggestions so that your negotiations resolve, and you can take action to eradicate the spore and fulfill your oath to Faerie.”

  Julia hangs her head. “Yup. Thanks, Domi. I know I sound frustrated and ungrateful.”

  “Because you are,” Scott states quietly.

  He’s so right. Julia goes to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I don’t know if I can do this, see it through.”

  “Yeah, ya can.”

  She turns in his arms, looking between Scott and Domi. They’re throwing visual daggers at each other.

  “I want Julia clean of this fucking thing.” Scott’s palm travels to exactly where the spore sits, warming her upper stomach.

  “Then request another audience and find a deep magick or an answer that will suffice. Do not hesitate.”

  Julia gives Scott a sharp glance, and a tingle zings through their meld. She knows the flavor of it.

  Scott’s unease.

  “What is it?” Scott asks, releasing Julia and striding to where Domi stands beside the door to their room.

  For the first time ever, Julia reads Domi’s expression as anxious. “There has been a ripple through Faerie. Something, some element, has disturbed the sithen.”

  “Disturbed how?” Scott asks, flicking his eyes to Julia as if she might disappear.

  She smiles reassuringly back at him.

  His expression remains unchanged.

  “The face of the sithen is becoming altered, malleable to whatever has been introduced.”

  “How does this affect us?”

  Domi’s eyes remain steady on Scott. “Evil has entered therein. It is too close to the timing of your entry for me to dismiss it as coincidence.”

  Julia and, as far as she understands, the other Singers are naturally distrustful of coincidence.

  The tingle between their connection comes again. Stronger, tighter—like a mental noose.

  “I am suggesting you be extra vigilant with our Blooded Queen.”

  Scott clearly wrestles with his pride then says something so unexpected that Julia’s jaw drops.

  “Let’s make the Unseelie put their money where the mouth is. I want a warrior to assist me in guarding Julia.”

  “Scott—no!” Julia says loudly, embarrassed and more than a little reluctant to be more beholden to the fey than they already are.

  Scott turns. “Don’t cross me on this. Beat my heart up any way you want, but don’t you dare question my reasons for protection.” His eyes bleed to the red of his Combatant form.

  Julia doesn’t cry. She gets mad, forgetting Domi’s there, and strides to Scott.

  “Don’t talk to me like that,” she says, voice shaking.

  “Don’t think I won’t ignore everything to protect you, even your emotions, feelings, or wants. Your life is more important than any other consideration. Even my love.”

  Domi says, “A hard truth, spoken like a king.”

  “You don’t have to be such a bastard about it.” Julia includes Domi in her scowl.

  “If that’s what it takes,” Scott says.

  She feels the steel through their meld.The metal of his will. Scott won’t bend on this. If he feels nervous enough about her safety to ask for Sidhe warrior assistance, then she has to back down.

  Julia doesn’t want to. She’s changed. Too much has happened since she first became aware of her unique position in this universe to stay the same.

  Maturing into what she’s become doesn’t even cover it. Maturing sort of has the meaning of coming into one’s own.

  Julia hasn’t become anything. She’s been shoved into what she is with all the finesse of a sledgehammer. Gone is the weepy teenager who was handed from one group to another. She’s a leader, for better or worse. Julia can’t let her emotions get in the way of doing what’s best for her people.

  And staying alive tops that list.

  Scott’s eyes are intense on hers. “You got it, Julia?”

  “You’re still being a bastard.”

  His answer is curt. “Yeah.”

  But through it all, she can feel his love.

  “This is non-negotiable. I want extra protection. Don’t like this sithen thing changing.”

  Domi’s face is unreadable. “It is not a good trend or forecast. When the sithen becomes unstable, certain things have been put in motion. And I am not certain what those might
be. Or who is responsible.”

  “Okay.”

  Scott just looks at her, waiting for her to fill in more words.

  “I relent,” she finally says.

  “Thank God.” Scott jerks her to him, kissing the top of her head. “I hate it when I’ve gotta be a hard ass.”

  Julia doesn’t say anything. She really hates it too.

  But his fear is sharp in her head. Scott sometimes acts like a butthead because he’s scared for her safety. But he’s a guy, so he’s not great at just saying things a woman would say right away, like she’s breathing. I’m scared you’re going to get hurt, so just do what I say, for instance.

  Nope.

  It’s the big caveman modus operandi. Julia forgives him. I trust you, butthead.

  He sends back, I love you more than worrying about hurting every feeling you have, Julia.

  A pang of shame pierces her. She’s young; Julia gets that. Scott’s not. He’s had the benefit of being raised a Singer his entire life, and he’s over a hundred human years old.

  He’s behaving instinctively.

  And the best Julia can do is struggle with his sucky delivery.

  “I can’t be both, Julia.”

  She tips her head back, checking out his expression, though his emotions are pretty transparent through their connection. “Both what?”

  “He cannot be the warrior and the lover at the same time,” Domi answers. “The two cannot choose between each other.”

  “Domi—shut up,” Julia says.

  Scott’s smile is slightly sad as he cups the side of her face, palming the entire side. “What he said.”

  Domi walks to them, placing a hand on each shoulder. “It is not easy being a blooded royal pair.”

  No kidding.

  “No shit,” Scott says aloud for them and winks at Julia.

  “This will all sort itself in due time.”

  Scott’s exhale is raw as he nods at the fey. “I want the time to be now.”

  “Don’t we all,” Julia agrees.

  Dark Master

  He slithers down the hall, still slightly encumbered with the Singer costume. Dark Master consoles himself with the fact his host body is in excellent shape, possessing strength as well as vitality.