by Leigh Kelsey
I cleared my throat, glancing over my shoulder at my sire. Gods, he was stunning. His blue shirt exposed the pale column of his throat, his dark red hair tied up in a bun, and his deep green eyes fixed on me. I was surprised to find they’d shifted away from the worry I’d sensed from him, and now they were full of heat.
“Come here,” I rasped, more than a little surprised when he did.
Oisìn dropped to his knees on the floor behind me, his hands finding my waist, my back. I felt dirty to be sat astride Allen while Oisìn touched me but still I shivered.
“I don’t know how this works,” I admitted.
“Neither do I,” Oisìn said quietly. I shuddered as his fingers traced my spine, so gentle it made my chest ache. Our gazes held, and I needed more of him. I needed to kiss him badly. And he knew. He rose onto the sofa beside us and I didn’t waste any time climbing into his lap, exhaling in relief when his hands bracketed my hips. I kissed him hard, my heart racing as he squeezed my waist, as Allen’s lips found my shoulder where my top had ridden down. I groaned, a sound that came from deep in my throat, and I was a bit embarrassed by how much I loved this.
But this was a natural vampire need—I knew, had learned this too was common among other vampire houses—and maybe I needed to accept this the way I’d accepted my new instincts and desires.
I broke away from Oisìn’s mouth with a gasp, glancing at Allen watching us closely. I leaned over to capture his mouth too, delighted at the stifled moan he made as my tongue dove inside. Oisìn’s hands drew shivery patterns across my hips, along my spine, and I trembled as I kissed Allen, my underwear soaking through.
I was completely breathless when Allen broke for air, my eyes half-lidded and lust coursing through my blood.
“Lay back,” Oisìn whispered, knowing what I wanted in that instinctive way of his.
Allen shifted out of the way so I could spread myself across the sofa, his lips finding my goose bumped arms, trailing all the way up them until he sucked my collarbone and coaxed a strangled sound from me.
“Are you—sure?” I gasped, trying to find clarity through the blanket of need that covered me.
“Yes,” Allen replied, swirling his tongue over the hollow at the base of my neck until I gasped.
“I’m sure,” Oisìn said in a low voice as he pulled himself over me, braced on his elbows. I gazed up at him, the flush on his pale cheeks, that heated look in his eye, and my core throbbed. He seared my mouth with another kiss than left me breathless and wanting more, and asked, “Are you sure, Elara?”
I laughed. “Definitely.”
I watched a wicked gleam come into his eyes and grinned, recognising the man who’d made me gasp and come so hard the world had shattered into pieces around me. Here was his confidence, his intense commitment to giving me the best kind of pleasure. Here was Oisìn without masks, without fear.
He laid me fully back against the sofa cushions, tugging my pyjama shorts over my hips and kissing the whole way down my legs. I groaned, turning my head to find Allen. He was sat on the floor beside us, watching with dark, hungry eyes.
“Come here,” I rasped. “Kiss me.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, kissing me with enough passion and skill that my pussy dripped molten fire. I gasped into his mouth as Oisìn’s fingers hooked into my underwear, sliding them off and licking a broad line from my entrance to my clit. Heat surged inside me, my skin prickling as it flushed, and I kissed Allen with everything I had as Oisìn teased my dripping folds with his too-soft tongue.
I broke away from the kiss, groaning my frustration down at Oisìn and finding his eyes flicking up at me, emerald green with amusement. “What do you need, sweetheart?”
Fuck. I loved it when he spoke in that tone, when he called me sweetheart. I breathed hard, my focus narrowing to the feeling of his breath fanning across my heated pussy. “Oisìn,” I complained. He knew what I needed. He always did—it was something I was beginning to notice about him.
Allen laughed, a soft breathy thing that had me turning to him. “So needy,” he said, pushing my top down more before dipping his head and scattering kisses down my chest. I exhaled a whispered curse as his hot mouth closed around a nipple, sucking hard.
“Oisìn,” I said, sharp and needy. “Lick me.”
“Like this?” he whispered, gently tracing my silken lips.
I grunted with frustration, inhaling sharply as Allen dragged his blunt teeth over my nipple. I was reminded of Finn biting into my breast and my pussy flooded Oisìn’s tongue. “No,” I huffed. “Please, Oisìn.”
He pressed the softest kiss to my inner thigh. “I know what you need, sweetheart.”
I jolted as he finally dove his tongue past my lips and licked me with conviction, with passion, like he meant every stroke. I groaned and moaned freely, the combined sensations of Allen sucking my nipples and Oisìn feasting on my pussy quickly building into a climax.
I felt Allen graze the underside of my breast with something sharper and gasped raggedly. “Allen,” I pleaded, not sure if I was asking him to stop or continue. Between my legs, Oisìn laughed a deep, rumbling chuckle that melted me.
He sucked my clit, wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves, and I bucked off the sofa at the pure shot of pleasure. “She likes it when you bite,” he murmured to Allen, and I was so close hearing him say that, guiding Allen to give me more. To have them both touching me, both seeking my orgasm … I was so damn close.
I exhaled all my breath as at the same second, Oisìn traced a finger through my wetness and thrust it inside me, and Allen’s lips dragged up to my throat where he scraped the sharp tips of his fangs over my jugular. He kissed away the prick of pain and said, “You should have told me you wanted me to bite you.”
I dug my fingers into the sofa cushions on one side of me, gripping Allen’s dark waves with my other hand. “I like it,” I gasped. “I like being bitten.”
“No,” Oisìn disagreed, pumping his finger hard inside me as I clenched and throbbed around him, sucking greedily.
My next breath was ragged. “I love it,” I corrected, closing my eyes at the feeling of Allen scratching me with those fangs again. “Allen—please.”
I needed it, that pain of being bitten, the flood of pleasure, and the bliss of feeding him.
He kissed my neck again, his nose skimming my throat as he inhaled my scent, and then he bit. His fangs went deep, that spark of hurt making me catch my breath as he pulled blood into his mouth, my blood. The dark groan of pleasure that came from Allen had me right on the precipice.
“I know,” Oisìn said before I could say anything. “I know, Elara.”
He thrust his finger hard into me, adding another, and sucked my clit into his mouth at the same time, sensations exploding through me.
I gripped Allen’s hair hard, a broken sound tearing from me as my release thundered through my body. My back arched, my inner walls pulsing wildly around Oisìn’s long fingers as a fire of pleasure ripped through me, set me alight, and reduced me to whimpering, shuddering cinders.
Oisìn slowed, scattering kisses across my sensitised pussy as his fingers lazily worked me through the aftershocks of my orgasm, and Allen pulled his fangs from me, licking up the trails of blood and exhaling a low moan.
“You are so amazing,” he breathed, laying a kiss on my cheek as I turned to face him, my eyes barely open. His lips were swollen, his pupils dilated, and he looked just as blissful as I felt. I glanced down at Oisìn to watch him pull his fingers out of me and lick them clean, his eyes never once leaving me as he sucked them.
I wanted more. I wanted him again, and I wanted to make him come this time. But at that second the front door opened.
COFFINS
I fumbled to find my underwear, to pull my pyjamas back on. Oisìn helped, pulling my vest up to cover my exposed nipples. I knew it was just Finn, but I’d just been having sex—more or less—with the man he loved and his son. I dreaded his reaction, peering
over the back of the sofa when I was decent.
My heart stopped, and even though I’d been dreamy with pleasure a second ago, I pulled my lips back from my teeth and snarled. Anger boiled in my blood like poison. I launched to my feet, vaulting over the sofa before I realised what I’d done, positioning myself in front of Oisìn so she couldn’t even look at him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed, my voice so far from human.
“I brought her,” Finn replied, stepping into the room, followed by Janna.
I almost snapped my mouth shut, his betrayal arcing through me like a dagger, but I just kept snarling at Scarlett. She looked the same as ever—like a screen siren with her honey curls and porcelain skin—except her precise eyeliner and red lipstick were absent. Oisìn tried to step around me but I moved so quick I blurred, blocking him from view, from whatever she’d do to try and hurt him this time.
“I know you hate me,” Scarlett said in a hard voice, “but right now we have bigger problems.” She took a step forward and I tensed all over, preparing to launch myself at her. Oisìn tried to pull me back, banding his arm around my waist and issuing his own snarl.
“Scarlett,” Finn said carefully. “Don’t move a single step.”
“Why?” Her head whipped to him and I saw it, my chance to strike, but Finn’s next words gave me pause.
“Because Elara is one second away from tearing out your throat, and Oisìn will rip whatever is left into shreds.”
His stark words shot through me, taking the violent haze off. I really had been a second away from killing her. Scarlett. My—friend. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. Even with everything she’d done, I didn’t want her to die when I was thinking clearly. But the second she’d stepped into this house, my mind had been fogged.
“What about me?” Allen asked in as flat a tone as I’d ever heard. I glanced at him, finding his eyes dark with pain. Scarlett looked at him, apology written all over her. I didn’t care, I told myself. Even though I did. “You betrayed us, Scarlett. You turned against your family. I trusted you,” he whispered, looking away.
Finn crossed the room, put his arm around Allen, and rubbed his arm to comfort him. I wanted to do the same, instincts pushing me to touch Allen, but I appeared to be glued to the spot, unable to move even one millimetre away from Oisìn. If she came anywhere near him … that crimson haze returned, and I bared my teeth.
“Elara,” Finn said gently. “She’s not here to hurt us. I found her outside, trying to come through the shields.” Even Rita’s shields repelled her? Didn’t that say everything—Scarlett wasn’t safe for us. The only way she was here now was because Finn had helped her through.
“I came to warn you,” Scarlett said, looking at her boots. “I’m sorry, okay?” she whispered. “I know I was wrong, not telling you.” Yes. She was. She shook her head, her eyes clearing. “Someone needs to turn on the television. Put it on the news.”
“I’ll do it,” Finn said, and as he brushed past us to grab the remote from the coffee table, Oisìn growled a deep, throaty sound.
“What are you growling for?” I whispered, reaching back to take his hand without removing my eyes from Scarlett. Janna, I didn’t read as a threat. Maybe because she’d sounded so horrified to learn what Scarlett had done in the hollow of the abbey, maybe because she’d helped me, telling me where to find the portal.
“Sorry,” Oisìn whispered, squeezing my hand. I squeezed back, my shoulders beginning to drop from their tense position beneath my ears—until he made to step beside me. I moved so fast, shoving him behind me where I could keep him safe. He just sighed, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand.
He probably knew where my head was fixed, the memories I’d locked into—waking up with him nowhere to be found, that raw wound inside my chest, the burning ice, and the hollow wind rushing through me along with the pure need to find him, make him safe. I still didn’t understand it, but then I didn’t know much about the sire bond.
The sound of a low, female voice crackled through the room, and as Finn turned the volume up and swore, I pricked my ears.
“—what seems to be the act of a Dracula cult. All we know at the moment is a number of coffins have appeared, reported to have come from the sea and up into the bay, containing men and women with sharp canine teeth. The footage you see now is of those people viciously attacking tourists and locals. Three people have been confirmed dead, and thirty others are being treated at Whitby Hospital. We’ll give you more on their condition as we receive the information. To repeat, members of a suspected Dracula cult have attacked civilians and tourists in Whitby town centre…”
I shook my head to knock the words out of my ears, turning despite the instincts raging to put my back to Scarlett. I gazed wide-eyed at the footage playing on a loop on the TV: the coffins washing into the River Esk, right by the lifeboat station, then the lids pushing back like something out of a classic horror film. I squeezed Oisìn’s hand hard, my breath coming short and raspy as the people filming, obviously thinking it was a marketing stunt, changed from laughter and wonder to panic and screams, the footage jumping and jerking as they fled.
My breath caught, jagged, and before I could catch it, a sob escaped.
Oisìn pulled me against him, and only the solid embrace of him kept my knees from giving out. He didn’t whisper any words of comfort. There weren’t any to give.
“Finn?” Allen asked in a small voice.
“They’re calling it a cult,” Scarlett replied instead, her voice sharp enough that I flinched, clinging to Oisìn so I could protect him as much as he could protect me. “They think they’re humans obsessed with Bram Stoker. That’s how they’re explaining the fangs—cosmetic work. None of the reporters has suggested it’s actually vampires.” Her voice lowered. “That’s good, at least.”
Finn nodded. I watched him from the corner of my eye. A hard shield had slid over his face, erasing the easy-going man I glimpsed through his eyes sometimes and the caring, protective faerie I was so familiar with. “The people won’t be convinced that easily. We need to contain this, and quickly.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
SKELETONS
I spun, hissing from the back of my throat at the unfamiliar voice. In the doorway, well past the shield of witchcraft, I found a vampire—I knew by the hairs rising on my arms, the awareness in my blood of his age, his power. He was tall, and lithe, with silver hair pulled into a neat queue at the base of his neck, and he was dressed in a strange combination of jeans and moth-bitten Victorian coat.
He was the oldest vampire I’d ever seen—oldest looking, at least—since Fear Doirche wasn’t actually a vampire but a fae. Appearing in his fifties, this man was still handsome in a Jeremy Irons sort of way, albeit Jeremy Irons in a period film, complete with ruffles on his shirt and gold rings on every finger.
“Sinclair,” Finn said in surprise, stepping forward to greet the old vampire with a handshake, each of them clasping the other’s forearms. They knew each other, then, and not just in passing or as acquaintances. They were friends. “I’m very glad to see you.”
Sinclair smiled, his whole face softening. “If only we met under better circumstances, my friend.” His eyes slid over Allen, Janna, Scarlett, Oisìn, and lingered on me. I swallowed to have his attention fixed on me, and Oisìn must have felt my discomfort because he exhaled another of those rolling growls from the back of his throat.
“I’m a friend,” Sinclair said with an easy smile, peering around me to look at Oisìn. Charming, but not in a false way intended to gain our trust. No, he seemed … nice. Not what I’d expected of the head of a vampire house that contained over twenty vampires. “May we come in? I can assure you we mean her absolutely no harm. Not even an ounce of harm.”
“We?” I asked, looking at him again. My mouth fell open as he stepped aside to reveal my mother in the doorway. My mum, casually stood behind a vampire more powerful and older than any I’d felt b
efore. Including Finn. She didn’t look afraid, or even uneasy. In fact she looked … happy. Her eyes were lit up from the inside, even though her mouth was down-turned in worry. It was strange, how happiness could change a person’s whole face. And it had. Even though I knew my mum was freaked, probably because she’d heard about the coffins and vampire attacks, she was glowing.
I narrowed my eyes at Sinclair. Had he done something to her?
“Oh, don’t glare at him, Elara,” my mum said, coming forward to grasp my hand. “If anyone should be glaring at anyone, I should be glaring at the man holding you right now.”
I smoothed out my expression, biting the inside of my lip. She was right, and now I eyed her anxiously. The last time she’d been in a room with Oisìn, she’d beat him up. And guilt-ridden, self-loathing man that he was, he’d let her. Strange, how I didn’t snarl at my mum even though she could hurt him as easily as Scarlett.
Mum sighed. “I guess we have some catching up to do?”
I nodded. But… “Did you see the news?”
“That’s why we’re here,” she replied, her eyes clouding over. She said that so casually. That’s why we’re here. We. Oh, this was not good. They were definitely a couple.
“Mum,” I said, trying to keep the ice out of my voice. Not because she was with a vampire—I had no room to talk—but because she hadn’t bothered to tell me. Even though I’d told her I’d forgiven Oisìn, that I liked him now. “How long have you been dating the head of the Last House?”
Mum opened her mouth, then shut it, looking uncomfortable. “Oh, not long.”
She had that look on her face, and I knew I wouldn’t get a straight answer from her. Instead I pinned a no-nonsense look on Sinclair.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Allen whispered, looking at me with eyes popping out of his head.