by Anna Abner
She withdrew her hand.
“Don’t be absurd,” he snapped, sitting up with effort. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s not fair to you. You’re barely free of a curse. You’re weak from your captivity—which is my fault, by the way.” His dark, pained eyes locked on hers. “But don’t think for a moment that I don’t want to.”
Violet sat beside him, soaking up his body heat, and rested her head on his shoulder. She cupped the side of his face. “I want you to bite me because you need my blood to heal, and because…”
He seemed to hold his breath. Was it important to him that she enjoy it? She thought back to the times he’d fed on her, either with or without her permission.
“I like your bite.”
His fangs elongated, messing with the beautiful symmetry of his mouth. “You do?”
In answer, she offered him her wrist again. Another hesitation. But when he finally moved, it was without warning and quicker than she expected. Like a striking snake, he sank his razor-sharp fangs into the tender flesh on the inside of her arm.
“Yes,” Violet hissed in a heady mix of fear and ecstasy.
Maks grasped her around the waist and rolled her onto her back. Violet’s eyes fluttered as her thighs opened, and he resettled his hips between her legs as he suckled. Licking her wrist clean, Maks bent his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply and pressing his erection harder and harder against the soft juncture of her thighs.
She wanted all of him, needed him inside her, craved his scent and the feel of his warm, sweet skin.
“Don’t stop,” she panted against his mouth. “Maks, don’t stop.”
He unbuttoned her jeans and slid his hand under the waistband of her lacy panties, slipping two fingers deep inside her folds. She was wet, her thighs falling wider. Nibbling her lower lip with his teeth, he massaged her slit, finding the nub nestled there and rotating his fingers around it. Violet whimpered, her hips flexing.
He drove his tongue against hers as he teased between her legs. She hiked one leg up over his hip, offering him more access.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.
“I’m not made of glass and tissue paper.” She took his beautiful, sad face between her hands and pushed him down between her legs. “Enough talking,” she said. “Please.”
His hesitancies vanishing, he spread her thighs wide, forcing her skirt up to her waist. Violet wilted back upon the bed, her fingers tangled in his dark hair. Maks plucked her panties up, ducking his head between her thighs. Violet crossed her ankles behind his back and tossed her head upon the white comforters.
Whiskers tickling her thighs, his warm, wet mouth descended upon her slit. Her inner muscles clenched, and she sobbed at the jolt of pure pleasure. His tongue lavished her, nudging and suckling her clit until her toes curled and her legs seized.
Maksim moaned into her, sending vibrations up into her core.
Violet tightened her legs around him, her back bowing. “Don’t stop,” she gasped. “Oh, God.”
Maks cupped her bottom, lifted her hips off the mattress as he stood, and ground his face into her.
Violet came with a violent orgasm, the pulses of pleasure like lava emerging from between her legs and flowing into her limbs. She screamed, untethered from reality.
She couldn’t say how long she lay upon the bed, her legs splayed, her clothes bunched around her waist, and her breath coming in exhausted puffs. Eventually, she began to doze.
“Tapping out already?” he purred, his hands on the crest of her hipbone.
Blinking sluggishly, she rolled toward him and smiled. “Not even close,” she fibbed, kicking out of her panties and climbing on to his hips. “You haven’t felt how warm and wet I am after your very thorough attentions.”
He slithered out of his pants, his cock already thick and ready against his belly.
She took a moment to push up his shirt and admire his body—all lean muscle and smooth skin. Dark hair feathered the center of his chest and picked up again in a thin line below his naval.
But then the size and girth of his cock stole all her attention. Lucky, lucky boy.
Violet straddled him, and he gripped her hips, hard, ten minor stab wounds.
“Violet,” he gasped.
She wanted to own him, to grind him into the mattress and have him scream her name and beg for mercy. “Lock your hands behind your head, and don’t move them,” she ordered.
A smile of anticipation crossed his lips, and he did as told, interlacing his fingers. With maniacal slowness, she accepted more and more of his cock until she sat flat upon his pelvis and their bodies become deliciously one.
She slid her hands up his chest and back down again, grazing his flesh with her fingernails. And as she perched above him, seeing his quivering lower lip and his dark eyes glistening like steaming café au lait, she wondered how many people—women in particular—had ever been kind to him. Gentle. Nurturing. His first love Katya, yes, but who else? And she decided that there had been no one else who’d ever touched this amazing man with love in their hearts.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispered, dropping feather soft kisses to each one of his eyelids. As she did, she lifted off his cock an inch and twerked her bottom once, twice. He locked his jaw, refusing to make a sound, even in pleasure.
“You’re kind.” She kissed each cheek, holding her lips to his overheated flesh so he could smell her breath and feel her hair all around him. Again, she twitched her rear.
“You’re generous.” Cupping his face, she kissed him gently from the corners of his mouth to his lower lip to the tip of his nose, and as she did, she rode him—short, staccato strokes—grazing her clit against his pelvis on the downward stroke.
He kept his eyes closed and his hands behind his head, but the muscles in his arms and chest tightened to the point of stone beneath her touch.
“Look at me,” she said, her voice a breathy plea. The pressure built again in her belly, and she panted helplessly.
There was a moment when she feared he may come without meeting her gaze, but then his eyelids slid open and his liquid brown gaze locked onto hers.
She slowed her rhythm, prolonging the pain. “Tell me I’m beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” he gasped, his arms quivering.
“Tell me you want me.”
He thumped his head against the comforters. “I want you.”
Her nose bumped his. “Now, bite me.”
He struck like a feral animal with a snarl and a snap, piercing her throat, holding her in place, and pulling her blood from her body. At the same time, he slammed his hips into her. Everything happened so quickly and with such force, she came with a scream, caught in a maelstrom of sensation.
Maks’ fangs withdrew, and Violet collapsed against him, not ready to do anything more strenuous than breathe and blink for a few moments. His clothes in a sad state of dishabille, Maks strode to the bathroom, stepped out of sight, and ran the water in the shower.
He poked his head around the doorway. “Care to join me?”
#
While everyone else settled down for the night, Roz texted Tonya to meet her at the café on the lobby level of the hotel. She had too many conflicting thoughts and emotions to sleep without talking to her first.
“I hope you weren’t trying to go to bed early,” Roz greeted, taking a seat with a hot latte and a laptop in hand.
“I’m a night owl,” Tonya replied, sitting across from her and waving a waitress over.
While she ordered a macchiato, Roz fired up her laptop. “I’ve sent messages to the email list about a change in leadership,” she said, clicking through files, “and then reporters started calling me.”
“Really?” She dug a memory stick out of her purse.
“Yeah. Lots of them. What am I supposed to tell them?” Roz wanted to be honest to put the Coven’s membership at ease, but at the same time, she didn’t want to cause some kind of national news story because of her ine
ptitude.
“I’d advise you not to say anything until you’re ready to run it, and even then say as little as possible.” Tonya passed the memory stick across the table. “I brought you all the legal and financial documents I could find from the last five years.”
“Thanks.” A new truckload of information did not exactly ease her anxieties. She picked up the memory stick and twirled it. “Any other advice?”
“I was actually thinking about this,” Tonya said. “You’ve seen our mission statement and core values.” Roz nodded. She practically had them memorized. “I think you should rewrite them to reflect your new ideas.”
That was actually a really good idea. “Okay.”
“You can release those to the press,” Tonya said. “Then you can start a group. If the tower is intimidating, hold the group somewhere else, but you’ll have a better sense of things if you actually get in there and get your hands dirty.”
“A group?” Roz repeated. “Like a support group?”
“Sure, why not?” Tonya shrugged. “Or a class or a Q&A. Call it whatever you want. But I’ll be there, and I’m sure Desiree and Graham will too.”
Roz loved that idea. “Baby steps.”
“Baby steps,” Tonya agreed.
A tall, dark man caught Roz’s attention across the promenade.
“Connor?” she murmured. What the hell was he doing down here at night? When he was supposed to be upstairs reuniting with Ali?
Tonya turned in her chair to look, and they both recognized Maksim Volk following Connor at a discreet distance at the same moment.
“Oh, shit,” Tonya hissed, standing up in a hurry. “That’s my cue.” Without even a good-bye, Tonya slipped away in the opposite direction.
#
Maks didn’t fall asleep with Violet. She dozed contentedly beside him, though, her warm and lithe body curled into his. Even in the few days since Svetlana had broken the curse, Violet had flowered in way Maks had never seen. Ever so subtly, she was gaining weight. Soon, her ribs wouldn’t be as visible as piano keys and her collarbones wouldn’t protrude like the blades of knives. She was already so beautiful, he couldn’t wait to see her pink and plump.
And then someone walked the length of the outer hallway.
Since bringing both Violet and Jackson into the hotel, Maks had been on high alert, and he didn’t miss much. The weight of the footsteps and their pace told him Connor was up and moving at a time he shouldn’t be.
Disengaging from Violet and their bed, Maks left her sleeping.
The elevator was already gone when Maks arrived, so he took the stairs. All fifty-one floors. But he was a quick runner, and when he finally hit the lobby, Connor was still visible across the promenade and heading for the street. Keeping a safe distance, Maks followed him down Las Vegas Boulevard.
Maks quick-stepped it past a pharmacy and a souvenir shop covered in lights and then crossed an alley between the Le Sort and the next resort. A scent hit him he wasn’t expecting.
Connor Beckett.
And blood.
Confused, he paused at the mouth of the alley, choked with shadow, and gazed into the dim space. Though it was dark, he could see the man at the far end. And he wasn’t alone.
“Brother?” Maks called.
The shapes at the other end of the narrow lane did not react.
Spending time with Violet and Ali’s Scooby gang must be rubbing off on him because Maks edged closer, alert to help or fight whomever he may find at the far wall. Nearer and nearer he crept, unseen, until the shapes became well-defined.
Connor hunched over a female who was decidedly not Ali. The blood scent overwhelmed all other odors in the moist and poorly ventilated space.
“Connor?” Maks tried again.
A wet sucking sound was the only response.
“Connor. What in the—” Maks grabbed Connor by the shoulder and yanked. Connor spun, shielding the dark-haired female in his arms, but fresh blood shone black in the dim, neon light.
Connor growled and snapped his teeth.
Maks had seen bloodlust before. He’d succumbed to it more than once. But he’d never expected to witness the almighty, holier-than-thou Mr. Beckett partaking from the veins of alley wenches.
Once Maks recovered from his initial shock, he took in the full scene before him.
Connor had lost control and attacked an innocent human. Mostly, Maks was concerned how Ali would feel.
“Back off,” Connor snarled. “I can handle it.”
“Oh, yes,” Maks said, falling back into his old derision. “You’re handling this woman quite well. Mind if I take a drink?”
Connor glanced from Maks to the woozy female, and some of the old Connor seemed to resurface.
“No,” he said uncertainly. “I won’t let you kill her.”
“Very selfish of you, if you ask me.” Maks took another step in reverse to afford Connor room to recuperate. Crowding a feeding vampire was as foolish as it sounded, and Maks would rather not be bit tonight. “Want to keep her all to yourself?”
“Shut up,” Connor returned, but without much enthusiasm. Stepping away himself, he released the young woman who promptly slumped onto her bottom and threw up.
Immediately, Maks knew two things. Violet would want him to help the woman, and Ali would want him to help Connor.
Staring at his victim, Connor said quietly, “What am I doing?”
“You’re a vampire,” Maks answered, though the question had most likely been rhetorical. “A carnivore, you pompous ass. Ignoring your instincts has led you to this.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t fight the cravings for human blood. Ever since the fall when Ali fed me…” he said, and then whipped his head up. “You can’t tell Ali.” To drive home his point, he slammed Maks against the wall and put his blood-streaked face much too close to Maks’. “You can’t ever tell Ali. Do you hear me? Ever.”
Maks didn’t make promises. But to reclaim his freedom, he said, “Of course. Your secret is safe with me, though I’ll ask you to stop feeding from her so much. She’s beginning to look anemic.”
Connor eased his grip by degrees. “Is she?”
Maks shrugged, finding his feet and straightening his now rumpled clothing. “I’ll take care of the girl. Clean yourself up before you go home.”
“Oh.” He glanced down at his blood-specked hands and stained shirt.
“You and I are going to have a long conversation tomorrow, brother, on the importance of self control. You almost killed this girl.” Maks pulled the poor thing to her feet and steadied her. “How many times has this happened?”
But Connor was gone.
“How do you feel, sunshine?” Maks asked the woman.
She spit something viscous onto the ground. “I’m sooo druuunk.”
“Close,” Maks replied. “It’s called exsanguination, but they cause similar symptoms.”
An uncomfortable sensation tingled its way down his left side, and Maks suspected he was no longer alone with the woman. “Evening, Caitlyn,” he greeted without looking up. “Did you catch the show?”
“He needs your help,” the Oracle said.
When Maks did glance up, the teen had her arms tightly crossed and a faraway cast to her eyes. He straightened and crossed his arms, too, staring at the last place he’d seen Connor. “Can you be more specific?”
“If he goes dark,” Caitlyn said, as if Maks hadn’t spoken, “and Ali goes with him? I don’t need to tell you—it’ll be bad.”
Maks whipped his head around, his arms clenching his ribs to the point of pain. “Ali’s not going dark.”
“Well, grandpa,” Caitlyn sighed, “that’s why I need you. Because things aren’t looking great in the Ol’ Beckett household.”
“What do I do?” Maks asked, catching the desperation in his voice. He pictured Connor taking Ali by his bloodstained hand and leading her so far away Maks would never find them.
“Whatever you do, do it fast,�
� she said. “He’s teetering on the edge.”
“Caitlyn,” he ground out, “you can’t tell me the world is ending and then disappear. You—” But she was gone. “God damn it!”
The woman on the ground made a grab for his leg, but fell over instead. “I like to party,” she slurred. “Got fifty bucks? We could party.”
He sighed, swallowing his anger and frustration because he needed to clean the woman up and see her home safely before he could even contemplate what to say to Connor.
At another time, Connor Beckett going rabid would have been the punch line to a hilarious joke. But things had changed.
“All tapped out, I’m afraid.”
#
After the debacle of the night before, Maks couldn’t sleep. Instead, he curled around Violet and went over the events in the alley. When Jackson fussed around three a.m., he fed him a bottle and rocked him back to sleep, which helped Maks remember what was important. Violet, Jackson, and Ali were the most important people in his life and he’d do whatever it took to keep them safe and happy.
He only rose and showered after he heard someone else padding around looking for breakfast. It sounded like Roz.
Clean and dressed, Maks carried Jackson into Ali’s suite where the team had gathered. There was such an air of excitement over the men’s homecoming that it only made Maks feel worse. Connor wouldn’t make eye contact and kept his distance, which probably didn’t seem unusual to anyone else gathered, but it felt different this morning.
“No,” Roz was saying as Maks entered with the baby, “the Coven is currently closed for business. The phones are off. The website is down. The front doors are chained.”
“For how long?” Ali asked. “I’m thinking of all the new spellspeakers trying to reach out for help.”
“I don’t know,” Roz admitted. “I’ve forwarded all Coven communications to one of my email accounts. I figure I’ll have a better understanding of where to go from here after I read the messages and make sense of all the legal mumbo jumbo.”
Ali turned to lift a glass of iced tea when she spotted Maks. With a smile, she came over and hugged him, squishing Jackson momentarily between them. “Morning,” she said into his neck.