Finally, he licked a path up her slit, then grinned against her pussy when she let out a growl of satisfaction. Tomas suckled her clit and drove two fingers into her tight pussy until she bucked uncontrollably against his mouth. When her hips dropped back down to the mattress, he took hold of them and flipped her onto her stomach. “Get on your knees.”
Terry rose onto her knees and, with a needy whimper, swayed her hips from side to side. Tomas gritted his teeth and slid his finger from her clit to her puckered ass. He wanted that ass. “Ever take it in the ass, Terry?”
“N-no.” Her hips stilled.
“Trust me?” Sweet Mina, he would be her first. When she didn’t answer, he continued to spread her slick cum over the tender virginal flesh. “First we’ll start small.”
Tomas slid the tip of his finger in and paused. With his other hand, he reached around her hip and smoothed his way up her ribs until her full breast filled his palm. Pulling her up, he held her back against his chest and kissed her shoulder as he slid his finger deeper and deeper, inch by inch. He released her breast with his other hand and dipped it between her legs. He swirled his thumb around and over her clit.
Blood surged into his cock when Terry responded by pushing her ass down on his finger, driving it in to the knuckle.
“Good girl. Now take control. Rise up until my finger comes out, then come back down.”
He let her fuck one finger, then two while he kissed a path over her shoulder to her neck. Her moans grew louder and her pumping more erratic when he added a third finger. He could feel the muscles deep in her ass coil tighter and tighter.
“I’m so close, Tomas. Oh shit, I’m so, so close.”
Her vein strummed beneath his lips. His fangs throbbed in response. When Terry rose up again, Tomas took hold of her hips and held her ass poised over his cock. He raised his head and bared his fangs as he roared. Terry let out a small scream and tried to pull away.
“Look at me, Terry,” he ordered, his voice raw with emotion.
She jumped and whimpered, but didn’t turn her head. Tomas saw the images from countless horror movies flashing across her mind.
“Look at me, damn it.” He was scared for some crazy reason. Terrified of her reaction.
She turned her head, then, when he smiled, released the breath she’d been holding. “What do I do?”
Tomas brushed his lips over hers until she relaxed. “Take a deep breath…hold it…now blow!”
He slammed her ass down onto his cock, impaling her to the hilt. Before the need to plunge into her again and again took over, he stilled and let her grow accustomed to having a dick in her ass. Luckily, Terry’s ass wasn’t his first. He knew he had to be patient if he wanted her to come.
When she started to move her hips up ever so slightly then down, he let her have control until her pace sped up, until she dropped down onto his cock so hard his teeth hurt. He dipped his hand between her legs and tweaked her clit.
“So, here’s how it works, Terry. I’m going to take over now. I’m gonna fuck your ass until you’re about to come.”
She moaned and nodded, matching his rhythm as he picked up the pace.
“Then, I’ll lick your neck—”
“Lick? I thought—”
He grabbed her hips and brought her down hard. “Be a good girl and listen.”
A shudder ran through her body into his. “I love when you talk like that.”
Tomas smirked. “I’m not kidding. It won’t hurt. Okay? It’ll just give you the best orgasm you’ve ever had, with yourself or me.”
She leaned her head back on his shoulder and nipped his lips. “Prove it.”
He fucked her ass until they both couldn’t contain their cries, and this time when he bared his teeth, she opened her eyes.
With a look of need, she tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck, offering herself up to him. Tomas entered her mind to share her experience. At first, when his teeth pierced her throat, she realized he’d lied. It did hurt. A white blinding pain. But within seconds unimaginable pleasure took hold. Fire raced through her veins toward her neck when he clamped his lips over her skin and sucked deeply. Every nerve ending sprang to life.
Terry held his head to her neck as she thrashed up and down on his cock. Her cries of pleasure drove him wild. He was drowning. Never had blood tasted so sweet, never had it burned so hot. Never had he come with such force. He spilled his seed, feeling like his very soul burst free and roared at the way her muscles greedily milked him dry.
Tomas listened to her heart, her breathing, how her blood flowed until he knew he’d taken all she could safely give. He gently slid his teeth from her neck, licked the drops of blood that followed and watched as his saliva immediately started to heal the wounds. Taking a deep breath, not sure if she would regret her decision, he raised his head.
Terry gazed up at him, her eyes filled with wonder. She opened her mouth to speak just as an aftershock rippled through her body. “Shit. Is it always like that?”
He stared intently into her eyes and wondered if he’d just ass-fucked his soulmate. “My God, Terry. It’s never like that.”
“I thought so,” she murmured smugly and kissed his neck. “You know what they say. One taste of Terry is never enough.”
* * * * *
“They’ve been like that all night and day.” Angelina went over to the bed and stared down at Sebastian and Diana. “When will we know if they’ll be all right?”
Damien sighed. Diana’s mouth suckled at Sebastian’s neck. Leaning down, he absorbed the sound of their combined hearts. While Diana’s pounded in his ears, he had to strain to catch the soft thump of Sebastian’s. The sound of blood trickling from his veins into hers told him all he needed to know. The tables had turned.
“Is she alive or not,” Frank asked, his hushed voice booming in the silent room.
Ignoring him, Damien strode to the kitchenette and filled two tumblers with Jack Daniels. Turning, he held them out to Frank and Angelina. When they both shook their heads, he downed both drinks. “It’s going to be another long night.”
Pillows flew off the couch onto the oak floor. Standing beside the couch, Frank gasped.
“Go to sleep, Frank,” Damien commanded with his voice and mind.
When the hunter dropped down onto the pillows, Damien turned to Angelina and opened his arms. Capturing her mouth, he supped on her sweet taste like a man starved and entered her mind. Angelina pulled away.
“Don’t you dare, Damien. I’ll wait with yo…” her voice trailed off as she succumbed and, collapsing in his arms, fell into a deep sleep. The scent of her blood enflamed him. His fangs pierced his lip. His erection throbbed. For years he’d dreamt of holding her again, of sinking his teeth into her slender neck, his cock into her tight pussy. But Sebastian and Diana needed him.
The elders had banned Ancient Bondings after they’d lost countless vampires. Too many had seen soul mates where there were none. Too many had erred in the binding of their wrists.
Yes, Dracula and Mina had survived. But only because they’d had the angels on their side. They had told Mina to bind both wrists to her lover at the same time, had explained that she would not survive if their combined blood did not flow from Dracula back into her body and replenish every ounce she lost. Had explained that even if she succeeded in bringing him back to life, he’d succumb with her death.
What Damien had feared most when he’d first entered Fentmore’s hospital and discovered Sebastian had erred was occurring. Diana’s body, in its instinctive need to survive, had sucked the life from Sebastian for too long. By the time Damien had bound their other wrists, Sebastian had filled her mind with only one thought. Drink.
Now, his blood flowed from both his wrists into her body.
He laid Angelina on the couch and brushed her lips with his. “Forgive me, Angel, but you wouldn’t understand what I have to do. I couldn’t chance you interfering and there’s no time to explain.”
Rising, he went to the
side of the bed and knelt. “Diana.”
When she didn’t stir, he pressed his forehead to hers and merged their minds. Diana. You must turn the tides of your blood. Send it back.
Her fear and her will to survive took hold and strove to push him from her mind. He felt and heard her body suck in more of Sebastian’s blood, heard his stepson’s heart falter.
Diana! He yelled into her mind. Send it back. You’re killing Sebastian. If he dies, you die. Send it back.
Bound this way, he knew she would balk at another’s kiss and hoped it would snap her out of the feeding frenzy. He pulled her mouth from Sebastian’s neck and crushed her lips with his, felt her heart and mind explode with rage that he would dare take what belonged to her mate.
“Save him,” he begged, his voice ragged. “Give him life.”
The rush of her blood surging into Sebastian released the tears searing Damien’s eyes. Diana’s melodic voice slipped into his mind, but she spoke to another.
A thousand nights, a thousand dances. Give me my wishes. Give me my stars.
Still merged with Diana, Damien saw a multitude of memories rising in her mind like mist off a midsummer lake. Memories of Diana as a child, a teen, a woman, memories of her dancing naked for the moon and saving the stars she bargained for, stars she’d hoped would someday grant her every wish. Her memories vanished in an explosion of light. Damien fell back, propelled away from the bed by some unknown force.
Momentarily blinded, he rose up onto his knees and blinked into the white curtain surrounding the bed, blinked until he realized Diana’s moon had come through for her. Millions of stars rained down upon her and Sebastian. As each touched their bodies, it shattered, then vanished. Seconds later, the last star landed where Diana’s lips touched Sebastian’s. He couldn’t be sure, but Damien thought this final star slipped between their lips.
At the sound of Sebastian and Diana’s hearts beating as one, he wiped the tears from his eyes and approached the bed. Not wasting a moment, he cut the sheets he’d tied around their bodies, then set to work, separating their wrists and sealing the wounds that would always bear the scars of their bonding.
Diana’s eyes fluttered open. Sebastian’s soon followed. Damien watched silently as without a word they brought their lips together. He drew in a deep breath, then hit the switch that would lower the bed to his secret room before the sun rose.
He adjusted the cottage’s security system. No one would be able to enter or exit without his help. He slid his hands beneath Angelina and lifted her from the floor. Her eyes flew open.
“Damien, you’re really here. I thought it was another dream. That I’d wake to find I was still on that horrible island.” Tears hovered over her lashes.
He pressed his lips to her forehead, then laid her down on the bed. Angelina’s eyes darted from the empty bed to the couch, then to the floor. “Where’s Diana and—”
“In our secret room. You do remember the nights we spent there, don’t you?”
Holding her gaze, he slid the tip of his finger between her parted lips and felt himself grow hard as one of her fangs slit open his skin. Turning his finger over, he watched her eyes dilate, knew she remembered, then rested the cut on the center of her tongue.
Her first taste of his blood since their last night together thirty years ago.
His own hunger tore at him when her hot mouth enveloped his dripping finger and her tongue curled around it like a babe’s to a nipple. His other hand removed her blood spattered sweater, the knowledge of her thirty-year chill breaking his heart. “You won’t need this any longer, Angelina.”
She blinked when his fingers grazed her breasts as he moved to unbutton her shirt. “Frank—”
“Will not wake up until I want him to,” he said, freeing a button with each word.
Angelina gasped as his hands swiftly removed her shirt and bra. “He said you and he spent all day yesterday going over the map and talking.”
“We did.” He pushed her shoulders until she fell back onto the pillows.
“So you haven’t slept for—”
“Nearly thirty-six hours.” Her pants slid off to reveal a scant lace thong. He frowned. “Tell me your psychic ability led you to dress for today.”
“I’ve been dressing for you for thirty years.” Her voice cracked.
He slid his finger beneath the thin strap on her hip.
“I’d understand if you were tired,” she whispered.
“I’m tired of waiting for this moment.” His finger followed the line of the thong until it touched her soft curls. “So, you’ve been wearing sexy underwear for thirty years? For me?”
Her eyes welled up. Her hand flew to her mouth, but failed to stifle her sob.
He waggled his brows. “Oh Angel, you know I prefer you naked.” He flicked his wrist, then tossed the tattered thong over his shoulder. When she giggled, he let out a relieved sigh. That short sob had told him exactly how unbearable their time apart had been for her. “Do you want to see what I’ve been wearing while I waited for you?”
Angelina’s eyes rounded. “You didn’t. You said you’d never, not even for me.”
She sat up and quickly unbuttoned his shirt. Pushing it off his shoulders, she checked his arms, chest, and back, then frowned.
Damien rose to stand beside the bed and popped open the snap on his jeans.
“No.” She knelt, her eyes twinkling. She moved closer to the edge of the bed as he brought the zipper down. His hand stilled. Before her eyes the bulge in his pants grew.
He regretted the delay this little show would cause on his return into Angelina’s pussy and cursed himself for starting it. The firelight caressed her skin and danced across her breasts and inner thighs. He envied it.
He noticed her eyes darken with desire, her thigh muscles clench.
“Oh damn!” He quickly stripped and stood naked before her, his hands on his hips.
Her wide eyed gaze first landed on his massive erection, jutting straight out from a bed of black curls, then darted to the tattoo to the right of them.
“Damien! My tattoo.” A heart with her name scrawled across it and a silly lovebird atop it, just as she’d described when she’d thought they would spend eternity together. She leaned closer, running her fingers over her name. His cock twitched.
“A man, Angelina, just as you asked. I let a man sit between my legs for hours. For you.”
“But, Olympia.”
“Never saw it. I haven’t touched another woman since you, Angel. And no one has touched me.” He cupped her chin in his palm and tilted her face up so she could look into his eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, we completed our bonding. Our failure to go before the elders didn’t change the fact that we bonded. You have always been my bonded mate.”
She rose up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “And you mine, Damien. I never doubted that you were mine.”
A tear rolled down his cheek. His eyes closed. “But I betrayed your trust.”
“No. I understand why you stayed away.” She wiped the tear away, but another soon took its place. She pressed her lips to it.
“Our baby, Angel. I took our baby.”
Angelina’s lips stilled. “Our baby died, Damien,” she said and squeezed her eyes shut.
The hissing and snapping of the fireplace was the only sound in the room.
“We had to take him. He was one of us.” Damien cringed when Angelina wrenched free of his arms.
She scrambled back across the bed to the far wall, shaking her head. “You came to the hospital? You took my baby?”
“I—”
“But then you must have seen me. You must have seen I wasn’t mad!”
“No, Angel, I never saw you. I didn’t even know about it until the elders sent for me. They already had our baby and—”
“Why?” Tears filled her eyes. “Didn’t they know how I longed to hold him, to look into his face and see you? Oh, God, why?”
“How could he have lived in yo
ur world? He would have been treated like a freak.” He moved across the bed toward her, but stopped when she held out her hand and violently shook her head.
“I was his mother. I would have protected him.” She spat each word out, the pain of losing her baby as piercing as it had been that night.
“Olympia told me she’d seen you. That you were crazy from the hunger. If I had gone to you, I would have been bound by our laws to bring you to Fentmore. I couldn’t take that chance. And I couldn’t trust your husband to accept a vampire as his son with you not sane enough to help. So I brought him into my home and raised him—”
“Tell me where he is, Damien,” she coldly demanded, “Tell me where my son is!”
Before Angelina’s eyes the face of the man who’d been willing to offer himself to the Slashers to save her life crumbled when he opened his mouth to answer. She wanted to soothe him, wanted to cover her ears with her hands and never hear what had happened to cause him such agony.
A torrent of tears flowed from his eyes. The more he tried to explain, the more he sobbed. Her heart shattered for Damien, for the son she now knew no longer lived.
She sat back and drew the sheets up to her breasts. Unable to bear witness to Damien’s raw grief, she stared out into the room and caught sight of her firstborn sleeping peacefully on the floor. He’d said he accepted Damien as her soul mate, yet had not met her eyes the entire flight home. Her son, the vampire hunter. Avoiding her eyes just like he had as a child when he felt he’d done something unforgivable.
“Oh, God. Tell me it wasn’t Frank. Please, Damien, tell me the vampire he’s been insisting was you wasn’t our son. Please!” For the first time since she’d watched Damien walk away from her and Frank at the lake, Angelina felt her sanity slip.
Damien wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms when she struck out at him, again and again.
“No! You’re lying!” she wailed, “Not Frank!”
He held her, his tears falling upon her cheeks, mingling with hers. “He didn’t know. He didn’t know, Angelina,” he repeated, over and over in her ear. “He had no idea he had caught his own brother.”
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