Angelic Blood (#5): Alpha Warriors of the Blood (The Blood Series)

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  I grow impossibly harder, and then I'm flooding her with my seed. Talyn keeps her grip steady, but her eyes open, finding mine.

  They are not Talyn's eyes, but those of her wolf. They're grateful. The pain of her transition recedes into post-coital bliss.

  I cup her face, propping my body weight up. “Welcome,” I whisper to her wolf.

  A low growl begins in her chest, and my prick begins to automatically grow in response to the desire, her need.

  “Again,” she says, a husky catch to the word.

  I cage her with my arms. “Yes, my queen.”

  Because that is what Talyn is. A Lanarre wolf, birthing her beast in this tenuous moment of sexual intimacy.

  I'm here to serve her.

  *

  Talyn

  Oh my God.

  My body flushes with heat, chicken flesh pebbling my skin. I run hot then cold. I can't stabilize.

  I don't want to.

  Merck tenderly takes my body, thrusting again. I'm deliciously sore. Chagrined to the core. This is what I was worried about? This is what I was resisting? Simply put, I wish I'd done him the minute I met him.

  Merck's not using me. He's cherishing me. Knowing that causes a fresh bout of tears to threaten.

  The second time Merck makes love to me is even better than the first. He's cooled the banks of fires that were raging out of control. I can think.

  I also feel her.

  My wolf loves his wolf. Loves. They swarm each other inside our bodies, rolling together with every deep unforgiving thrust of him into the willing vessel of my body. He's so large, but built so perfectly, as though Merck's is the custom-made size for my body.

  As though he is the key and I'm the lock.

  He smooths my hair back from my face with both hands, burying his length so fully inside I feel as though we'll never part.

  “Merck,” I say, the tears I held at bay running out of my eyes and sliding along the seam of his hands.

  “Don't cry, Talyn.”

  I cry because I know it could never be this perfect with anyone. I weep for his job of just this—then he hands me off to strangers. I grieve for wanting this forever.

  Wanting him.

  Because he won't return the sentiment. Merck told me what he was.

  A Changer.

  And that is all.

  He gently seats himself inside me, and I accept the second course of his healing essence, my wolf—my body, relieved and ready—but my heart remains heavy.

  My future is not set.

  There's only now. And maybe now isn't enough.

  11

  Narah

  I don't use tears, though I know they'd break the guys. I'm too honest for that manipulation.

  They're not hardened criminals that need to be goat-roped.

  Aeslin and John are the males who made a baby inside me. Whatever it is, it's mine. And that's a first.

  I've always been someone else's

  Someone to abuse, rain unkindnesses down on, dismiss.

  Torture.

  I ignore everyone, especially Drake the diarrhea mouth.

  “Narah,” Aeslin says softly, tipping my chin up. I look into his eyes and tears shimmer even though I vowed I wouldn’t cry. “I have never wanted for something more than this.”

  “I don't want to discuss our personal business with the shifter as an audience,” Matthews says.

  I sigh.

  “We'll wait for you, love,” Murphy says. “Come on you, before your fat claptrap gets your arse in more trouble.”

  Drake gives me a look with a question buried inside. “We'll get her,” I say as an assurance I don't feel. Pretty tough to assure anyone of anything when I have my two mates looming over me, and a bun in the oven.

  I swallow past it, and Drake must see the resolve in my gaze because he nods, taking my words at face value, walking off with Murphy.

  Matthews watches his retreating back with a mixture of anger and wary curiosity then turns to me. “Aeslin may handle you with kid gloves but I know you're not a delicate flower, Narah.”

  My lips twitch.

  “Is it true—are you pregnant?”

  I quickly nod, biting my lip to keep the thick wetness coating my eyes from falling.

  I'm really hating the hormonal swings.

  “Why, Narah? Why did we have to find out from some strange shifter?”

  I look at the ground. “He smelled it on me. It wasn't a plan to have you find out that way,” I say with quiet regret.

  “Smelled it on you?” Aeslin and Matthews exchange a glance. “That wouldn't be possible.”

  My chin rises. “It is.”

  Aeslin cups my face, kissing away escaped remorse. Not tears. Just some leakage. His silver eyes are gentle on my face. “Narah—answer us. Why would you keep this happy news from us?”

  I roughly inhale, gripping Matthewsʼ forearms. “I don't want to quit my job. I'm not that fragile.”

  Matthews—John—places his big palm on my still-flat stomach. “But he or she is, Narah. Promise me you'll quit when you begin to show.”

  I knew it would come to this.

  That they'd want to shut down the beating heart of what makes me—me.

  Aeslin's palm falls beside Matthewsʼ on my stomach. A tiny flutter, like butterfly's wings, trembles inside my belly and I gasp.

  Their eyes meet mine then Aeslin's narrows. “I feel the babe within.”

  Matthewsʼ grin is wide, his normally neutral face vanishing with the baby's movement. He frowns at Aeslin. “Why the long face, Aeslin?”

  “How far along are you, Narah?'

  I can't lie, but my eyes shift from his intense sliver gaze. Damn. “Five months,” I whisper.

  Matthewsʼ hand leaves my stomach as though burned. “What?!” he yells and I wince.

  They scowl.

  I gulp, confessing, “The doctor says because of my size I'll be small then suddenly blow up.”

  Aeslin scowls. “That's a dire prognosis.”

  Matthewsʼ smile flashes like lightning. “You're so literal, Aeslin.”

  I nod, smiling. “He is.”

  “So technically, you're not showing, but you should be,” John clarifies.

  I nod.

  “God!” he shouts, stalking off. John rakes fingers through his dark hair then turns, hoods shadowing his eyes.

  I know they're angry without looking, and I don't want to look.

  “Tell me you'll quit now,” he says in a low voice.

  “Normally, I wouldn't agree with Brutus, here...”

  I snort and Matthews glares.

  Aeslin's piercing eyes glow with mercury fire. “Yet, you must see reason, Narah.”

  “Fine,” I say, offering the only concession I'm capable of. “I'll take a hiatus,” Aeslin's brows drop, and I ignore the rage cloud filming them over, “but only after I close this case. I have to figure out where Talyn Phisher is, find out if she's okay.”

  John says, “Have Murphy do it, you're his sire—command him. Any vampire would.”

  I cross my arms, my own anger surfacing. “I am not any vampire. I'm still half-human, and pregnant—and fucking responsible.”

  “You are responsible only for your safety, and the safety of the unborn child. Our unborn child.” Aeslin looks at me until I drop my eyes.

  Dammit.

  They let the silence fill the space between us. A very effective maneuver. But in the case of the guys, they don't maneuver. They are always who they present themselves to be. Another thing to get used to.

  “Okay,” I agree softly.

  “And we are not trusting our pregnant mate's safety to the youngling.”

  I don't roll my eyes. Murphy would jump under a bus for me.

  “Let's go get the dragon and get out of here, wrap this enchilada.”

  Matthews stands stock-still. “Dragon?”

  Oops.

  Aeslin strokes his jaw. “He's a prehistoric shifter. That's why the heightened sens
e of smell.”

  I laugh. “That's what Drake said. I call bullshit.”

  Matthewsʼ lips quirk.

  “What? There's no such thing as prehistoric dragons because they don't exist, never did.”

  Matthews nods, gripping me by the nape and drawing me into him. “Exactly my point. They might not exist but Drake seems real to me. And dangerous.”

  They look down at me, their bodies protectively close, achingly perfect. I want to sink into that healing love. I covet it so hard it freaks my shit out. Fear makes me angry. My hands fly up. “He didn't hurt me. He could have baked me but he says he doesn't hurt females.”

  Matthews grunts.

  Aeslin shakes his head. I rise on my toes, kissing his hard mouth. His flesh softens, molding to my lips. Arms encircle my waist as he whispers beside my ear, “Don't ever keep things from us, Narah. We can't protect you if we don't know what to protect.”

  Matthews grips my shoulders. “Yeah, what suave and debonair just said.”

  I break my kiss from Aeslin, letting my head fall on his shoulder. “Nice, Matthews.”

  John grins, slapping my ass. “Let's go get dragon, and see about your client.”

  “No—you two hang here. That's all I need is Casper up my ass about too many vamps in the chicken coop.”

  Their confused looks keeps a grin affixed to my face.

  Until I walk into the office and a brained Murphy is writhing on the floor, moaning about arsehole dragons.

  12

  Merck

  Talyn's wolf is gorgeous.

  The rumors about Lycan royalty are true. The females, Jesus-on-a-stick—she's Eve reincarnated.

  Smooth, muscular hips roll smoothly as she paces across my apartment.

  Nude.

  Which I will never get tired of looking at.

  Gone is the modesty of the woman, true Lycans aren't worried about a little tit and ass vaulting around. And Talyn is uncovered, her beautiful pussy is accented with a dark patch of short hair right above her slit.

  I could dine on the delicacy of Talyn. Forever.

  “Why are you so nervous?” I ask casually instead, putting on the finishing touches of our meal.

  I'm ravenous. My beast has coupled, and now requires satiation. Fucking and food. But first, the woman who I've claimed must be fed.

  Claimed.

  I try to remain untroubled by the scent that the dragon coated Talyn with.

  That my seed wiped away.

  His was only a partial claim. In the end, only cum nails the claim.

  Talyn stops gracefully in the middle of the floor, the city illumination backlighting her perfectly. I still, knife raised from chopping fresh tomatoes, the pinch of cilantro still clinging to my fingertips.

  “I'm naked!” she yells. “I have no clothes.”

  I glance down at my half-finished salsa, and calmly set the knife down on the cutting board. Inhaling deeply, I release a slow breath, trying for zen. “I noticed.”

  “Of course! Who could not help noticing?” Talyn crosses her arms, shoving her gorgeous rack into delectable view. I try not to grin but that always makes a face look funny.

  Her frown becomes a scowl. “Don't you dare laugh.”

  “Never,” I say then bust up, shoulders shaking soundlessly.

  She rounds the peninsula of the kitchen and punches me in the arm. I'm utterly distracted by her tits bouncing as she does. “Sorry,” I croak.

  “You're not sorry,” Talyn seethes.

  I nod stupidly. Caught.

  I grab her shoulders. “You've taken a shower, you need something to eat. What's mine is yours. You could have grabbed a t-shirt from the drawer, but I do appreciate the view.” Then I kiss her.

  Hard.

  At first she's stiff then Talyn melts into the hold, and my rock-hard erection falls between us like the plank it is.

  “You do a lot of this?” she asks, her tongue dipping inside my mouth, eyes taking in the food spread, the apartment—our undeniable intimacy.

  Only with her.

  “No,” I say.

  She pulls away, chest heaving and nipples hardening beautifully. “Fine, I'll go get a shirt.”

  Talyn struts away, and I admire the bit of wolf that peeks through. The spinning amber eyes, tinged with the shadow of her human gray. The new muscles, larger hips and breasts, the surefooted litheness her animal allows when she's in movement.

  I finish the salsa, smiling vaguely at the noise of dresser drawers being opened and shut with more force than necessary.

  She has a temper, my Lanarre. When the moon goes full, she'll own it.

  Talyn appears with a t-shirt that comes to her knees. I give her a critical once-over.

  “I liked the other outfit better.”

  She smirks, but it's happy at the edges. “I bet you did.”

  I load my hands with plates of food and take it to the table. Taco meat steams alongside guacamole. City lights twinkle just outside floor to ceiling height glass windows.

  We sit at one of two benches that line the length of my long, wooden table made of heart pine. Our elbows brush as we dig in, sharing the meal in companionable silence. I'm not frightened by the profound satisfaction of my female's consumption. Of me. Of the food I prepared with my own hands. Contentment coats my insides, stealing into the dried crevices of my heart, whetting my appetite for more than food, for more of Talyn— this.

  Talyn licks her fingers, another pang of satisfaction running its course. “What's for dessert?” Talyn asks in a coy voice, disrupting my thoughts.

  “Gelato from the freezer,” I say and grab my package, “Or beef stick?” I wink, feeling lighter than I have in a long time.

  Talyn smiles and leaning over, she wraps her arms around my waist, resting her head on my shoulder as a moment's bliss descends like a soft cloud.

  A scent hits my nose. Alarm thrumming through my guts and lighting up adrenaline like a match struck to a line of fuel as the apartment door bursts open.

  The Mutable walks in, slamming the door so hard a hinge pops. The dragon looks between the two of us, and I shove Talyn behind me.

  “You fucking dog, couldn't wait two minutes before you bred her, could you?”

  Nope.

  I shake my head, a quaking Talyn pressed against my back while the remnants of our meal cools on the table. “You're too late, Mutable.”

  His head kicks back, and my sense of smell tells me before he makes a move.

  “Never too late, Changer. I'm not a Mutable—yet I was able to pass. Now that the Mutable colony is an ash pile, they won't be giving us any further trouble, and I can get down to business.”

  His scent permeates the apartment.

  My body tenses at his words, the arrogant prick. “You think you can still claim Talyn?”

  “I'm a prehistoric. Of course I can.”

  Prehistoric?

  He charges.

  Talyn screams, scrambling behind me.

  My last thought before we collide is can my claim remain? Or will an ancient shifter overpower even that?

  THE END

  SHIFTER

  An Alpha Claim Brief-Bites® Novelette

  Episode 5

  New York Times Bestselling Author(s)

  MARATA EROS

  TAMARA ROSE BLODGETT

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2015 Marata Eros

  Copyright © 2015 Tamara Rose Blodgett

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  www.tamararoseblodgett.com

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  Marata Eros FB Fan Page

  Cover art by: Willsin Rowe

  Proofed by: Corinna

  1

  Talyn

  Drake mows right over the supper table I've scurried behind, Merck traveling over the top of our food and scattering Tex Mex all over the floor.

  Fists fly as Drake pounds on Merck.

  Merck's face shifts, changing into what he told me is his wolfen form. A snout develops, sharp teeth springing from his gums.

  He sinks fangs into Drake.

  Drake howls, scales rippling over his body like a rainbow of cascading water. Oh no. I leap forward, no plan—just pure reaction.

  I can't have Drake hurting Merck.

  I don't care if Merck's only plan was to transition me then dump me for the next bitch in heat. We'd shared something dammit.

  I leap, talons bursting from my fingertips.

  Hurts! I have time to think, and then I'm impaling Drake's back to the knuckles.

  He bellows in pain, trying to toss me off, but I hang on. Mainly because I don't know how to let go.

  Drake swings from side to side, attempting to dislodge me while Merck's eyes widen at the sight of my wide, terrified eyes.

  I yelp as a talon breaks to the quick. I jerk the other seven out, pushing backward with my thumbs. It's the distraction Merck needed.

  Steam rises from Drake's ears, nostrils—mouth.

  “Oh shit,” I say from my butt on the floor. Nude from the waist down, Merck's huge t-shirt is hiked to my waist.

  Merck stabs Drake in the torso with talons that are longer than mine. His mouth opens in a silent scream, opaque smoke belching.

  Oh my God, fireball time.

  I scramble to my feet and lower my head, sprinting to his back like a bull charging a red flag.

  Thunk.

  I hit him and see stars. He staggers forward, as I stumble backward from the impact, feeling a moment's pride in my new strength and speed before I land on my back, the air rushing out of my lungs.

  Drake hurls Merck. He lands on the O in the word Foundry integral to the brick wall. My eyes bulge as Drake stands over me, taking in the fact that my honeypot's on full display.