When I was done with my speech, he lifted his hand to my neck, curled his fingers around and up into my hair, and he rolled me again. His eyes were no longer gentle but totally intense.
He didn’t say anything.
He kissed me, not gentle or slow, all rough and consuming.
He continued to say nothing as he took my mouth, his hands moving on me, and it began again. Not the same as before. He was slow and gentle, taking his time, building it, his hands eventually getting the addition of his lips and tongue gliding on my neck, tracing a path to my nipple, then the other, down to my belly, only for his tongue to slide across the top of the triangle of hair between my legs and head back north.
All the time his hands still moved on me, heightening the sensations, so by the time he made it back to my mouth, I was ready for his cock.
This was good because he gave it to me, sliding in slowly, his eyes to mine, his face close, his breaths coming fast, mingling with my own.
He was halfway in when he dipped and kissed me. Angling his body to the side, one forearm in the bed so he could hitch his knee for leverage, he rammed the rest of the way inside and I whimpered against his tongue.
He commenced thrusting, deep and sweet, as he kissed me, his other hand smoothing down my neck, between my breasts, to my belly.
Still taking me, he lifted his head.
I opened my eyes, looked into his, and the instant I did, he asked, “Delilah, are you mine?”
I slid a hand up his chest and curled it around his neck, using it to pull my torso up to press against his. My lips to his, I whispered what I knew was utterly crazy, but I also knew to the depths of my heart was undeniably true.
“Yes, Abel, I’m yours.”
His fierce, feral growl vibrated against my lips, along my skin, exploding between my legs as he drove a hand into my hair, shifted to covering me, knee still hitched, and he quit deep and sweet and started fucking me rough and wild.
I gasped against his tongue before I tangled mine with his.
Not long later, I whimpered my orgasm into his mouth.
Not long after that, Abel growled his against the skin of my neck.
And he kept us connected as we drifted out of our climaxes, his face in my neck, my body cushioning his, my limbs holding him tight to me.
And as everything that was him, everything that we’d done, everything that we were becoming began to settle inside me, I decided having a guy who was hyper-intense, ridiculously overprotective, and phenomenal in bed were all super-fucking-good things.
Chapter Seven
Potential Bloodbath
Abel
Abel heard the rumble approach from outside. He looked to the bathroom sink where Delilah was aiming a hair dryer at a round brush that was wrapped around a thick lock of her dark, shining hair and called loudly to be heard over the sound, “They’re here.”
Hair dryer still on, her eyes slashed to him and she cried, “Shit, crap, shit, crap, shit, shit, shit! I still have to tease!”
She then turned back to the mirror and pulled out the brush, the lock falling soft with a smooth wave into her face. Abel felt his dick twitch even as his lips curved up.
His dick might be twitching again, but it wasn’t the same. The consuming need he’d had for her was gone, or at least the dangerous part of it that he’d feared would harm her was.
He still wanted her, but now it was because she was fucking gorgeous, fantastic in the sack, had a spectacular body, and was intensely responsive, all on top of what he was getting was her natural sweet, generous, teasing, kind, funny, and accepting.
And he knew this because he had all of the first four times since they woke up that morning and he’d had all of the last since he’d met her.
He looked to the floor behind her and saw her two bags had exploded since they took a shower, after which she commenced getting ready.
He also saw Xun was not wrong. The bitch did not pack light, not by a long shot. He had no idea how long she planned to stay in Serpentine Bay. But by the clothes, shoes, toiletries, and cosmetics bags he’d noted as he saw her pawing through them, which contained makeup as well as jewelry, it looked like she was moving there.
Something unpleasant shifted through his gut, but he buried it, deciding instead to continue to feel amused that he’d get the only biker bitch he’d met who couldn’t travel with a couple of clean tees and pairs of panties, an eyeliner pencil and mascara, and an extra pair of earrings to shake things up.
Not that he’d had a biker bitch. Losing Hui, then Mei, and after her Sying, and more before them and after, he’d learned not to form attachments to humans outside the family. Just being with his family, he knew gut-wrenching loss would eventually come, so he didn’t court more of it.
That didn’t mean he didn’t have friends over the last fifty or so years who lived the life, their women on the backs of their bikes, wearing leather cuts, proudly proclaiming they were the “property” of their men. These women existing on what they could shove in a saddlebag.
This meant Abel had never had what he had right then—the smell of a woman, his woman, his mate, permeating his space. All of her smells, every nuance, from her shampoo to her body wash to her lotion, her perfume, the shit she slid through her hair before styling it, and the underlying scent that was all her, her skin, her cunt, her essence.
And he fucking loved it, every note, every trace. He loved that her bag had exploded behind her. He loved watching her frantically teasing her hair in the mirror, shifting from foot to foot in agitation and excitement to see her dad (both of these he could smell too, and both were fucking brilliant).
He also loved the fact that that night, he’d sleep beside her. He’d also wake up beside her tomorrow morning.
And repeat the next day.
And the next
He’d brought women to his space, slept with them, woke up with them, then took them home and erased their mind of where they were, giving them different memories. These being that he’d fucked them and slept with them in their beds, all so they wouldn’t remember where he lived.
Delilah would be the first he didn’t have to do that with. Delilah would be the first who that happened with day in and day out.
And he loved that too.
But Abel did not think beyond that. Did not think of the days passing into months, then years, all of it leading to an inevitable conclusion that would leave him again with that hole in his gut, the agonizing pain of not having what he needed, and worse, the hole she would eventually leave in his life when she left this world, her being it. The one. The only woman who could give him what he needed, leaving him with centuries of missing it with no shot at having it back.
For she was filling his life already, just days in, with her talk of vampire TV shows and her ready acceptance of her destiny and her bonding with his family.
And what she’d given him that morning.
Christ, what she’d given him.
He’d felt her fear, smelled it, but she sat on that bed knowing, since she’d seen his strength in action, that it was a very real threat he could harm her. And she didn’t tell him to go.
Instead, when he drove his cock home, her cunt clenched around him, welcoming him deep, her head snapping back, her hair flying everywhere.
Christ. He’d never forget it, not how glorious it felt, not how colossal it was.
Then she’d given him her blood.
He’d had rat’s blood, cow’s blood, pig, chicken, goat, sheep, and finally, human woman. He’d never had a male’s blood; it didn’t smell good and the idea of taking it turned his stomach.
But he’d never had blood as warm and rich and sweet as Delilah’s. Given to him freely, giving all of her in one go, giving him everything he needed the first time she took his cock…
Fuck.
He knew she was his destiny. He understood that would come with emotion.
He was still surprised at how quickly he was falling in love with her.
She cursed and Abel again focused on her, thinking, if they were to stay there much longer (which they weren’t), he’d put another sink in on the other side of the tub so he’d be able to get in to do the minimal prep he needed to take on the day. This was something he’d had trouble doing earlier, squeezing in at the side to brush his teeth while she leaned across the sink, swiping makeup on her face.
He’d also give her a vanity, a huge-ass one, where she could rest all her shit while she was getting ready.
She wouldn’t have it here. But wherever they settled, he’d find that for her. For the rest of her life, he’d find her everything she needed.
She bent to retrieve the comb, giving him a full-on view of the ample curves of her sweet ass, the sight he again felt in his cock. Then she went back to her hair.
He finished pulling on his boots and moved from the milk cartons where he’d been dressing.
He approached her from behind, got close enough to touch, but reared his torso back when she snatched up a can of hairspray, aimed, and let loose.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
She stopped spraying, her eyes went to his in the mirror, and she muttered, “Sorry.”
“Everything about you smells good, pussycat. But that shit? No,” he told her as she tossed the can back into the sink with a clatter and he moved in, putting his hands to her hips.
“I need hold,” she shared, lifting her fingers to fluff and arrange her hair, her eyes back to herself in the mirror.
His eyes dropped to her tits where her tee was straining, his dick deciding it was time to yank down her jeans and panties and bend her over the sink. Fortunately, because of what Delilah gave him earlier, his mind had control over his dick again and he didn’t do that while her father and his boys were right then parking their bikes in front of the restaurant.
“I got a lot of hair,” she went on. “I don’t spend thirty minutes getting it to look this good only for it to fall and look like garbage.”
“I think your dad probably doesn’t give a shit what your hair looks like,” he pointed out, and her eyes flew to his in the mirror.
“I’m not doing this for my dad,” she returned. “I have a long, tall drink of serious hot-guy werewolf vampire. I can’t take his side and not be the best I can be.”
Abel froze, staring at her in the mirror.
Take his side and be the best I can be.
“Abel, I need to spritz on more perfume,” she told him.
He didn’t move.
Take his side and be the best I can be.
“I don’t want you to get a blast of it, honey,” she stated.
He slid his hands to cross his arms over her belly, yanking her into his frame, bending his head and using his chin to shift her hair out of the way so he could bury his face in her neck.
There she didn’t smell like hairspray.
There she smelled like Delilah, fresh and sweet and tangy.
“They’re already inside, Lilah. You need to get the lead out,” he said softly there, kissed her, and let her go.
“Okay, baby,” she muttered before she spritzed, quickly turned, squatted, dug through bags, and put on jewelry. Then she sat on her ass and pulled on her socks and boots.
He moved close to her and offered a hand.
She lifted hers and he took it, hefting her up, way up, surprising her into giving a quiet cry as he took her clean off her feet. She automatically swung her legs around his hips, her female parts pressed to the side of his hip, his hand leaving hers so that he could wrap his arm around her back and hold her close.
She curved her arms around his shoulders. He turned his head and looked down at her, seeing her eyes were wide.
“Hold on, bao bei,” he murmured.
She nodded.
He moved.
He heard her gasp as he went about taking her upstairs as fast as they could get there, including opening and closing the steel door and the back door to the restaurant.
All this took seconds.
As they came to a rocking halt in the kitchen, he smelled Jian-Li’s lunch.
He also smelled biker. Five of them.
He gave Delilah a slight shake and she unwrapped her legs from his hips. He put her to her feet and looked down at her.
Her hair was slightly tousled and her eyes were huge and bright.
“That…was…awesome,” she breathed.
He grinned.
She leaned deep into him, her hand hitting his stomach. Smiling up in his face, dazzling and gorgeous, she whispered, “Let’s meet the parents.”
Meet the parents.
He’d have that once. With her. Doing something natural for a human, something Abel couldn’t ever have until her, knowing he found the woman for him and adding humans to his life, his family, giving him more.
More family, which was the only real joy he had in his long life.
Or, at least that joy would last for a while.
Abel wanted to kiss her for that reason and others besides.
He didn’t. He shifted so she’d let him go, but he took her hand and led her into the restaurant.
When he did, he saw instantly that Jian-Li was in hostess mode, nodding, smiling, and greeting the bikers who were gathered inside. Xun, Wei, and Chen were close but off to the side, giving her space to do her thing.
He took in Delilah’s family and saw instantly they were hardcore.
They weren’t bikers.
They were live, breathe, eat, drink, fuck, bleed, and die for the life bikers.
And he knew the one to the front was Delilah’s father. He knew it because she had his hair and his eyes and he had a tinge of her scent. It was masculine, but the tang was underlying it. She got her pale roses-and-cream skin from somewhere else, but she got serious goodness from her father.
He was maybe five foot eleven. He was stocky with a hint of a gut. And he was in leathers— chaps over jeans, jacket, even a suede shirt.
His dark but salted hair was long, as long as his daughter’s, but just the back. The top was clipped and spiked. The mullet to beat all mullets that only a guy like him could pull off.
His face was weathered. It was clear he had no problem with sun and wind, drink and food, likely drugs. He lived his life, every fucking minute of it, and he enjoyed the fuck out of it, all of this written on his face.
Then something else was written on his face as he noticed Abel and Delilah coming into the room.
Love and joy. Pure. Absolute.
Delilah pulled her hand from his, raced across the room, and Abel forced himself to stop and freeze in that position, his jaw clenching, feeling a muscle dance in his cheek as she threw herself into her father’s arms.
He knew from what she’d told him that they were very close. She adored the man, trusted him, her affection for him was extreme. Abel also knew from the look he’d just witnessed on her father’s face that he returned all that.
Thus that man would never harm her.
Abel still felt the overwhelming urge to forge straight to them and tear his woman out of her father’s arms.
“Daddy!” she cried as her father shook her in his hold, her feet off the floor, arms around his shoulders, face in his neck, his face wreathed in smiles.
“My little girl,” he husked, his voice beyond gravelly, straight to shards.
Finally, he let her down but didn’t let her go, just positioned her a foot away, his hands holding her at her forearms out in front of them.
That was when Abel moved, immediately getting close, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm, forcing himself to pull her away but doing it gently. He felt her eyes come to him, saw her father’s eyes move to him. But when he got her where he wanted her, he did not hesitate to clamp an arm around her shoulders and tuck her tight, her front to his side.
“Things have been intense,” he said quietly to her father. “I get who you are to Lilah. She told me. But the first time I had
eyes on her, she was not in a good way. So I’m not good with men touching her. Any man. This might wear off. But until it does, I hope you get me.”
He felt Delilah relax into his side as her arms snaked around his middle. Through this, her father held his eyes.
Then he hooted, “Fuck!” He turned and said to the men behind him, “Did I tell you I was gonna love this guy?” He turned back to Abel and Delilah and shouted, “I fuckin’ love this guy!”
The tension that had sifted into the room at Abel’s actions slid away as Delilah made the introductions. “Daddy, this is Abel.”
“Yeah, little girl, I think I got that,” he replied on a huge smile aimed at his daughter and then stuck a hand out to Abel.
Abel let her go, she did the same, and he moved to take the man’s hand. But it was a surprise when he didn’t shake and instead grasped Abel’s forearm and gave it a powerful tug, forcing Abel forward so the side of his chest slammed into the side of Delilah’s father’s.
Both men leaned back, but Delilah’s father lifted his other hand and pounded Abel’s shoulder repeatedly, smiling up at him, before he lifted his hand again and slapped his cheek, again repeatedly, doing this lightly with fatherly affection.
At this, Abel tensed, feeling Delilah tense beside him, but the man stopped soon enough and let him go.
He looked to his daughter. “Trust you to find a warrior this good-lookin’. Fuck me, little girl, not a man I clapped eyes on in my life was a match for you, ’cept this motherfucker,” he stated, jerking a thumb at Abel.
Delilah giggled and moved into Abel again, saying through her laughter, “Totally.”
He let her wrap her arms around him and he returned the favor with one around her shoulders as her father turned his attention back to Abel.
“Hook,” he declared. “Hooker Johnson. My parents named me David, but that’s a stupid-ass name and if anyone ever called me that, I’d rip their throat out. So it’s Hook.”
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