With his own knees, he pushed hers further apart until she was falling forward onto her elbows, rather than propped up on her hands. He slid the tips of his fingers through her moist core and growled, the sound rumbling through her as his teeth remained fixed on her shoulder.
In the morning, she’d have bruises.
As was his right.
He grunted at the thought as he slipped a finger inside her.
Lady, she was tight. She clung to his digit like wet silk, and he slipped another one in, making her whimper. He wasn’t a small man, so her size was an issue.
He wanted nothing more than to fuck his shaft into her, to claim her as she was desperate to be claimed. The whimpers and mewls she made were pleas to him. Noises that came from her soul, with the desperation she felt, the need to become his at last.
But he couldn’t hurt her.
Instead, though it killed him, he stretched her around two fingers, then three. Scissoring them, he focused on easing her there rather than her clit.
She wriggled and writhed beneath him, and he knew the beast of her own was gnawing at the bit. Needing more, demanding it from them both.
When he decided she could take him, he pressed the tip of his shaft to her cunt. Her pussy flexed around him, just that barely there inch. He groaned at the sensation of tight heat and sighed when she moaned, “So big.”
It didn’t sound like a complaint, though he knew he was going to hurt her regardless of all he’d done to try to make it easier for her.
Still, she didn’t sound too scared by the prospect. A fact he thought was down to her nightwalker rather than the woman.
He persevered, going slowly when he wanted nothing more than to thrust into her, to impale her with everything he had to give.
But that was for another time.
For later, when she was his, had been his for a lifetime, and could take all of him without pain.
He’d considered himself a controlled man, but he’d never realized the depths of that control until now.
This was torture. Absolute agony.
Every inch was hard won, and the inches inside were tormented by silky muscles, which clung and fluttered. That dragged him to the precipice of pleasure, that urged him to cum.
He didn’t know how he stopped himself, but it was imperative that she climax first.
Not for his pride, but because he wanted their claiming night to be memorable. Not because he was shit in the sack, and not because she’d almost died. He wanted these moments to take over the hideousness of those memories.
With a shudder, he thrust another inch inside, and this time, she let out a sound that sounded anything other than pained.
He recognized that for what it was and immediately thrust wholly inside her.
She let out a yelp, but it was swiftly followed by a purr. His fingers went to work on her clit, and he rubbed and caressed that little nub, showing it more fucking love than he’d given to his own cock when he’d jacked off to thoughts of her.
The need to make her cum was all he could think about. He wanted it. He demanded she orgasm, that she gift him with that present.
“Fuck me,” she cried out when he just stayed lodged inside her. When he didn’t move, just teased and taunted her clit. “I need you, Ios,” she whispered.
His eyes flared wide at the nickname, something only his mother had called him. It wasn’t an appropriate time to think of her, but a flood of warmth flowed into his being. Love, acceptance, caring.
The mate bond.
Lady Mother.
He shuddered in response. His beast was no longer alone. Would never be alone ever again.
With a moan, he began to thrust inside her. Her plea, the gift of that nickname, deserved everything he had to give.
He fucked her. Not hard, but with enough force to make her fall flat into the bed and not give a damn. She turned her head and let him have his way. Let him take her, claim every inch, and all the while, his fingers were on her clit.
Her orgasm stunned the shit out of both of them.
All of a sudden, he was lost in a tight wormhole of wonder as she climaxed around him, those silky muscles getting to work around his cock, milking him for all he was worth.
He roared out his own pleasure seconds later. Feeling his cum blast into her womb, the beast settled down, his Dragon satisfied that she was his now.
Even the Dragon knew that things hadn’t been done in the right order, that the mating mark wasn’t in place as it should have been when he fucked her, but it was too satisfied to care.
His mate scented of him from the inside out, and that would only be accentuated over time.
He slumped over her, but his hands fell beside hers, and he propped himself upright. He unlatched his teeth from her shoulder where he’d kept her in place, even after she’d tumbled against the sheets, and eyed the marks with satisfaction.
The only kind of pain she’d ever know again was that kind.
He shuddered at the thought and shuddered harder when he realized he too would be covered in her bite marks.
Almost like that thought was a trigger, she suddenly reared up, knocking him off her. Her strength, at that moment, astonished him. He lay flat on his back and eyed her. She crouched over him, her gaze like quicksilver. But, though she was totally unlike his Lara, utterly savage and wild at that moment, he wasn’t scared. He couldn’t be. She was his, and he was hers. Even her nightwalker beast, so primitive and reacting so ferally after tonight’s attack, registered that because she’d submitted to him—there was no hiding from that fact. So, when she pounced, her teeth settling on his throat this time, he just let himself lie there and take her claiming.
It was only fair, after all.
With a moan, he felt her fangs drop, felt the sharp tips as they scraped over the contours of his throat. They moved over his Adam’s apple, explored the sinews that led to his collarbone and shoulders. She sniffed him. Delicately. But still, she sniffed. He felt the faint gasps of air against his flesh, and his cock hardened in response to what she was doing.
Mother, should he find this as arousing as it was?
When she struck, her teeth piercing the thick flesh between neck and shoulder, he winced a little. It hurt, but it was a kind of pain he could get used to. The last time she’d fed, it had stung a lot, but this time? Naked? This was no chore, which was probably a good thing considering he was about to become her sole source of dinner.
In this realm, Sanguennas drank less than in the other, but she’d still sup from him at least three to four times a week.
He looked forward to that becoming a part of their fucking.
Mother, that was something to get excited about.
He let her drink her fill, and even when he started to feel woozy, he didn’t try to pull away.
She was feral again, and he could understand. The beast had been sated by her orgasm and his cum, but now, she needed his blood.
She seemed to realize he was weakening and with a grumble, pulled away. Her mouth was messy, covered in his blood. She looked every bit a monster then. With her silver eyes, hair all over the damn place, and blood over her lips and teeth as well as the rest of her body which was scored with bite marks and scratches.
But, even in this state, she was his monster.
And that was when Georgios knew he loved his mate. Because if she could make something from a bad horror movie—a recent joy he’d discovered on his forays into the other realm—look sexy, then he had to be head over heels.
Six
Hunger. Fear.
Thirst. Need.
The four emotions flashed through her mind, on and off, on and off.
Inside, Lara was screaming. She could taste Georgios’s blood in her mouth, and it grounded her, but the beast was taking too much.
His heart was quiet. A dull thump rather than a heavy beating thud. It frightened her, enough to make her roar at the other side of her nature.
The nightwalker half pulled bac
k, and she stared down at her mate. He looked sated. His eyes heavy and slumberous, his cock, as always, hard.
She wiped her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
Her whisper was so quiet she was surprised he heard her. But then, his hearing was better than even hers. A Shifter had better senses, when it came to scent, sight, and sound. But her sensitivity and taste was a thousand times better than his.
“What are you sorry for, pet?” he asked a little drowsily, but he was strong enough to wrap an arm around her shoulder and tug her down to the bed.
For the past three days, they’d been in this chamber.
They’d done little more than fuck, feed, and sleep before doing it all over again.
She was sore in places she’d never been sore before. And though the bizarre creature that was her nightwalker kept on appearing, making her want to rip out his throat with the need for his blood, she was as happy as she could ever be.
On the second day, Lara had reappeared again.
She’d awoken from sleep with a gasp. Her gasp disturbed him, but he’d smiled at her, sleepily, and murmured, “You’re back.” Then, pulling her down toward the mattress once more, he’d tugged her against him and hugged her tight to his chest.
When they’d awoken next, he’d gorged on a feast of food while she watched on in confusion, the need for him inside her—both her veins and her body—overwhelming her, so that when he’d finished eating, she was on him like white on rice.
The next day was the same. And today, it seemed, would be no different.
“I keep taking too much blood.”
He shrugged. “It’s yours to have.”
“That doesn’t make it right.” It was hard to feel ashamed when the victim of her crimes was so intent on taking that shame away. With a grimace, she pressed her fingers to the bite she’d just left. She’d been taking from him so frequently that the bites weren’t healing properly, and his throat looked like a mass of sores.
“That has to be enough,” she said firmly, more to herself than to him. The beast inside her, which had awoken immediately at being attacked, started rumbling with fury, but she refused to hurt Georgios anymore.
The poor man couldn’t spare any more blood!
Thankfully, the kitchens here seemed to have an endless supply of tripe—that disgusting wonder food that helped a body create more blood. He’d been eating so much of it he was going to turn into a damn cow.
Just the sight of the gooey, textured flesh made her stomach churn, but he hadn’t minded. Had doused it in something that had come with the dish and had hummed with delight all the way through the meal as though it were a delicacy. And maybe in this weird world it was. After all, with half of the Dragon’s court being taken up by bloodsuckers, they’d need something like tripe, wouldn’t they?
The nightwalker’s constant demand for more blood was concerning because when the bitch demanded, there was no stopping her, and this was Georgios. Her mate. She was hurting him. The beast in her was hurting the one male who could complete them.
It made no sense, and yet, her nightwalker was utterly savage. Might well continue in this vein as she continued to heal in the aftermath of the daywalkers’ attack, and while it wasn’t something she could bear, it wasn’t like she had much say in the matter. That side of her, for the first time in her life, was totally in charge.
God, she was starting to understand how her mother had felt, and that was never a good sign.
With a huff, Georgios sat up. He pressed a hand to her knee and stroked her there, making her pussy quiver with need.
“And no more of that either,” she said on a groan. Though hunger rammed into her nether regions, she was so sore she wasn’t sure she could fucking walk.
His lips twitched. “I think your nightwalker would disagree.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s a given.” It was bizarre hearing him call that side of her by a name—like it was an entity all on its own. But though it was bizarre, it was the truth, she supposed.
Never before had that half of her nature played so prominent a role.
Whatever the daywalkers had done to her, and however she’d been healed—Georgios still hadn’t told her—it had changed her.
She just didn’t know for how long or if it was, horrendous though the prospect may be, permanent.
For the first time since this whole thing had started—and she couldn’t call it all a nightmare, because the bits she could remember had been so fucking wonderful she felt tingles shooting through her at the memory—she knew she could talk to him. Hold a conversation without needing to pounce on him once more.
Taking that as a good sign, one that led to a positive direction, she asked, “Is this where you live?”
He shook his head. “No, sweetling. Of course not. This is the palace.”
She ran a hand through her hair, feeling unease course through her. “A palace?”
“Aye. We have a Queen. Remember? She lives here. Arista has been queen for nearly two thousand years and, for all that time, this has been her seat. Drafty and bloody miserable though it may be, she seems to like it.”
As he muttered about the damn décor, her mouth dropped open at the sheer number of years Arista had been Queen. “Two millennia?” she squeaked.
He nodded. “Aye. She’s a good Queen too. Leads fairly. Is even kind to your reprobate of a mate.”
“Why are you a reprobate?”
“I have a reputation, in this realm, for mischief.”
She blinked at him, more astonished by that than the fact there was a two thousand year old-plus Queen ruling this land. “You do? But you’re so…” She blinked once more, trying to conjure up the right word. Finding it, she clicked her fingers with satisfaction and declared, “Staid.”
It was his turn to gawk at her. “Staid?” he mumbled and, then, roared, “Staid? I’m about as staid as a Scotsman’s kilt!”
“Huh?”
He sniffed, folded his arms across his chest, and… No, that was definitely a pout.
An honest to God pout.
More stunned than ever, she asked, “A Scottish man’s kilt?”
“Yea,” he grumbled. “A kilt looks innocent from the front, but underneath, they pack quite a punch.”
She couldn’t help but grin at that. “I’m sure not all Scotsmen go in the raw under their kilt.”
He pshawed at that. “The good ones do.” His pout deepened for a second. “Anyway, I have never been staid.”
She shrugged. “I can’t help that, that’s the impression you gave me.”
“You saw a different side of me, granted.”
“Why?” Her question was soft and tinged with hurt. Why had he kept his true nature from her?
He let out a sigh. “Because I never intended on claiming you, dearling. It was both pleasure and pain to see you every evening the way I was.
“I could see you, talk to you, touch you, and smell you…but I knew that was all I could have. It was sweet torture. I entered your coffee shop wanting more and left knowing I’d had all I was willing to take.”
“Because of your father?”
He nodded slowly.
She sighed. “But you’re not him.”
“You’d better hope I’m not,” he said gruffly.
Lara reached for him. Splaying her hand on his belly, right beneath the arms he’d folded over his chest, and on a washboard abdomen that her tongue had thoroughly explored many times over these past few days, she murmured, “You would never hurt me. If you were going to, it would have been now. When I’m actively hurting you.”
“You’re not hurting me,” he immediately dismissed, but his scowl was enraged. At her. “Don’t you dare make out that you’re hurting me.”
“Why?” she asked simply. “It’s the truth.” She eyed his throat, proof positive of how she was abusing him. God, he looked like he’d been attacked by a wild beast.
He sat up with a sigh, not stopping until their foreheads were pressed together
. “You’re not hurting me. We’re getting through this together.”
She understood, then, that he didn’t want her to think badly of herself, which was so beyond fucking cute it was ridiculous.
She pressed her lips to his, sighing at his taste. “You’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” he confirmed, then, with a grin she could taste too, murmured, “You’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
The affirmations weren’t necessary, but they both sighed like it was imperative.
“What are we going to do tonight?”
“Aside from the usual?” he asked with another pout, but she could see a glimmer of seriousness in his eyes.
“Yes. If you fuck me anymore, I won’t be able to walk until next week.”
“I’ll gladly carry you around,” he offered with a grin. Then, he wrinkled his nose. “Does any part of you feel numb?”
“Aside from my pussy, you mean?” she teased, making him growl.
“Yes. Apart from there. Although I know a way to make it feel better.”
“No. Leave my poor pussy alone,” she wailed, slapping her hands between her legs and crossing her thighs over them. Sheesh, even that hurt like hell.
He chuckled, winked at her once, and then asked, “I do mean it though, Lara. Is anywhere numb?”
She blinked at him. “Why would it be?”
“Because we did none of the mate bond the right way. I’m just wondering where we’re at with the process.”
“What the heck are you talking about?” she asked, forgetting to guard her pussy from him as her hands slid over to settle on her knees.
“You need to rest,” he started. “We can talk about it another time.”
“No.” She reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers. “Explain, please. I want to know.”
He grimaced. “Usually, what happens is like what Remy did. He took you over to the other side. If I’d done that, you’d have reacted to the mate bond. Most females pass out…”
She snorted. “Seriously?”
He cocked a brow at her jest. “Yes. Seriously. When they wake up, something happens to them. It’s like a metabolic change.”
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