by Talyn Scott
“I… do.”
She would have flown off the bed if Searlas hadn’t the foresight to hold on to her. When she started sitting up, trying to back away from the sensation, Niall nipped right above her pubic hair in warning.
“Don’t do it,” he scolded. “Don’t run from the pleasure.”
She took a deep breath as Searlas slid down and uncurled his hands from her thighs. After checking to make sure his claws had retracted, Searlas thrust a finger inside her heat, circling it as Niall latched onto her clit. Searlas added another finger before gathering her moisture and pulling out momentarily to slide down and coat her dark hole. His fingers probing slightly with sexual promise.
“It’s time to feed,” Niall said hungrily, right before he pierced her pubis on either side of her clit.
“Ah!” Jenny’s eyes flew back in her head.
With Niall’s tongue lapping her blood, Searlas kept working both holes, softening her for their invasion. When Jenny cried out from an instant and sudden orgasm, Niall groaned on a hot swallow, laving every drop of blood that mixed with her flowing arousal.
All too soon, Niall closed his feeding wound, leaned back, and let Searlas drive all the way in her pussy with a single thrust. Yes, she was that wet for his intrusion. His eyes popped wide in ecstasy, his fangs chewing his lower lip.
“Lift her,” Niall demanded.
“Wrap your legs around me, Jenny,” Searlas said, rotating his hips as he brought them to standing at the end of the bed. Niall scooted to the center and fisted the base of his cock, directing Searlas to lower her on his multi-ringed erection.
Surging upward, Niall pressed through the tight ring of her anus, his biceps wrapping around her upper body as she quivered with another orgasm.
“I need release,” she growled at her males. “Give me more.”
Niall rotated his hips in the way of Searlas and brought at least half of his cock inside of her ass, just as Searlas started to lower his weight back on her. Sandwiched between hard lusciousness, Jenny wrapped her fingers around them, touching everywhere she could get her sharp claws to dig.
“More!” she demanded in the way of female werewolves, her instincts taking over as her body started shimmering. She could hear her throaty moans join their growls and hisses, sense the sheen of perspiration glaze her skin with every thrust they took.
When Searlas scraped his fangs across her throat, Niall leaned over her and placed his wrist at Searlas’ mouth. Not a second passed before Searlas tore into Niall’s wrist, swallowing the Gryph’s powerful blood in a near feeding frenzy.
Niall seemed to sense Searlas’ endorphins entering his bloodstream. He pulled his cock out of her ass almost all the way, and then slid back in on a longer plunge. Searlas picked up his pace. Then one male pulled out while the other pushed in, building up a quick friction that sent Jenny over the edge, while rambling words that made absolutely no sense.
“I love you, Nevesta,” Niall grated as his balls tightened, his cock jerking wildly inside her ass.
Searlas licked Niall’s wrist closed and speared Jenny’s mouth with his tongue, while thrusting madly as Niall starting coming. He brushed her hair back as he started coming, too, and bit down for a few intimate swallows since his thirst was well-sated. Seconds later, Searlas emptied his hot seed deep into her core. On the thin membrane that separated her two males, Jenny felt them both pulsate inside of her, their bodies trembling with relief.
Moments later, Jenny felt her eyes droop, the lids heavy as sleep consumed her.
“What,” Searlas asked as he pulled away from the clasp of Jenny’s body, “did you do to her?”
“You could sense that?” Niall asked curiously, as he, too, eased from her body.
“Yeah, and you’d better start explaining,” he demanded, but his body was stiffening by the second, his tongue growing thick.
“For this day, our Jenny will sleep like the dead, with you by her side.” Niall lifted from the bed, redressed, and then dressed Searlas, making sure he replaced all of Searlas’ weapons so he’d be at the ready, after he awoke at sunset. From there, he dressed Jenny. Using jeans, sneakers, and a dark summer sweater that nearly matched her hair, he utilized whatever he could find from inside her overnight bag.
“How can I protect her…like this?” His mind going as sluggish as his body, Searlas protested faintly as Niall hitched him over a shoulder and then lifted Jenny in the same manner.
“Let’s just say I’m putting you in a very specific spot away from the manse.”
“I don’t … like this.”
“Neither do I, but I can’t have anything happening to Jenny while you’re out, and I’m required to kill more than half of Maxim’s employees to make what we planned for tonight happen.”
“Where are we…?” Searlas’ mind closed on the last thought, wanting to ask Niall where they were going, but his mouth would no longer work.
“Trust me,” Niall said as his great wings spread out — one held oddly to shelter Searlas from the harmful sun rays — and he took to the sky.
Chapter 20
“I told you.” Andreev stormed by another stair landing in the main manse, lifting his nose to follow the scent of Gryph. “I’m only speaking with Maxim, and I’ve waited all day to do it,” he glanced down at his watch, noting the time was now seven o’clock. How was he supposed to pull any of this off within half an hour?
“As I told you, Master Andreev,” the Sentinel, a Species vampire, nearly pleaded, “Master Maxim is away on urgent business.”
“I can smell him on the premises,” Andreev argued, though what he really smelled beyond Maxim’s residual scent, were werewolves. Lots and lots of werewolves were circling just outside the miasma…waiting. And if he weren’t far off the mark, he also sensed the power of a great Master vampire and possibly a Vampyr Vojak or two.
He clenched his fists as he traveled down yet another corridor, Andreev was so close, so fucking close it physically pained him for each moment he stayed away from her. “You’re leading me the wrong way,” he accused the Sentinel.
“With all due respect, Master Andreev. I’m leading you to the roof so you can take the next flight out of here.”
This was wrong, he realized instantly. Andreev knew that the helicopter was coming in tonight and the airplane was going out. So the Species next to him had something nasty up his sleeve. Therefore, when they glided across a catwalk with nothing but parallel wooden railings for protection, Andreev sent the Species falling to the ballroom below, his neck catching on a small, round table centering golden chairs.
“Slip and fall,” Andreev explained to a horrified chambermaid, her mop stilled in her hand as she took in the sight of the broken Sentinel. “Leave him there. He’ll be good as knew in a couple of hours.” Or longer if he hadn’t feed today, Andreev added silently.
Considering that Cyna was basically scentless unless she’d had sex, he continued to follow Maxim’s faint trail to an obscure hallway, which led to ruby-red double doors. And low and behold, he heard the bitch spouting out directives on the other side of the walls.
“I’m expected,” he said to the Sentinel guarding the door. He noticed the male’s jaw clench when Andreev reached for the patina door handles, but he made no move to stop him. So he strolled inside, rounding an urn of decaying flowers and stopping just short of barreling through the ugliest piece of furniture he’d ever lain eyes on.
Cyna sat on a throne of ruby red hearts, and he’d never get the sight out of his head. She looked horrified, sitting there while clutching her cell phone with her blood-red nails. “Why are you here!” She glanced around, looking for her Sentinels.
“I’m still in search of Maxim.”
“We’ll I’ve just risen,” she lowered her voice serenely, suddenly remembering Andreev was a guest, a paying guest. “And I haven’t yet spoken to Maxim.”
“You’re sitting in his office,” Andreev pointed out. “Where is he? Yesterday he was absent fro
m his own ball, the very ball he’d invited me to attend.” Andreev leaned down, placing his hand on either side of her chair, gripping the upholstered armrests with his claws until he plucked out threads of white stuffing. “I want my Bride, and I want her now.”
“Well, tonight is your turn with our lovely Jen,” she stated evenly, her odd smile still plastered over her lowered fangs. “I’ll fetch her personally.”
“I’m withdrawing my proposed handfasting on Jen. The Gryph can have her.” He’s already had her! he wanted to shout. “I want what I came here for in the first place. A specific Bride Maxim promised he could provide.”
Cyna’s smile slipped. “And what exactly did Maxim promise you?”
“Don’t you know?” He stared her down, waiting for any telltale signs that would unveil her guilt. Had this Undead killed Maxim? Andreev figured he would never find out, though. Tonight, however, he was getting the hell out of here, and carrying his new Bride over the miasma threshold with him. “I thought you were Maxim’s right hand.”
“I don’t have your files,” she muttered, squirming in the chair Andreev refused to release. “But I promise to accommodate you as well as I can.”
“You will accommodate everything I ask of you, or I will go downstairs and alert the other high paying vampires. We can leave together.”
“What do you — ”
“I know Maxim is dead and he’s your owner,” Andreev informed her. “Therefore, you cannot run this place in his absence.”
She raised her hands just short of clawing him. “Tell me what Bride you want.”
“A Norwegian werewolf female you’re hiding below ground,” he stated clearly.
Cyna pursed her lips. “She is spoken for.”
“I’ll triple the offer.” He had no idea how much he was signing off, but his family had descended from the Dynasty Empire, and money literally meant nothing to them. Except for a way to barter with lunatics, which was what he was doing right now. “And keep my mouth shut after I leave.”
“I could have you killed.” She bared her fangs. “You’re outnumbered.”
“Actually, it’s you who is outnumbered. Throughout this property a very busy and intuitive Gryph has been setting up bombs.” A total fabrication, Niall had actually killed certain key operatives in Maxim’s stronghold. “I not only know their locations, but also when they’re set to go off.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I think you do.” He leaned closer until his lips brushed Cyna’s cheek. “Gryph Niall is not a rogue, sweetheart.” She gasped, and he pressed the back of his fore-claw to her lips to shush her. “He is, in fact, a Donn.”
When he lowered his hand, she asked fervently, “As in the royal Gryphs?”
“One and the same,” he explained, smiling serenely to mock the bitch. “I’m sure you realized you were being investigated by several factions, but did you realize one of those orders was sent by Prince Volos himself?”
“We must bug out!”
“You’ll never get out of here before the first bomb blows, but I will, Cyna, because I know exactly where it’s hidden.”
“Fine,” she hissed. “I’ll get you the Norwegian, but you’d better guard her well. The creature who’s spoken for her will not take this lightly.”
“She will be most protected.” Though, why Cyna wanted his affirmation, Andreev would never know. “Now, lead the way. Alone. I want not a single Sentinel with us or following us. So if you even think of reneging on me, the first bomb goes off at twenty after seven,” he lied soundly.
“I will never go through that again,” Jenny said with a shudder, brushing off bits of dirt and grass. She’d risen with Searlas. Risen! Both coming up from a shallow grave they shared just outside of a water plant.
“I have to go through it every day,” Searlas grumbled as he shook out his hair, then winced at the look on Jenny’s face. “I’m sorry, so don’t start anything over that comment, Jenny. I’m not mad at you. I’m alive and I’m with you. That’s what counts.”
Jenny hating being reminded about what she’d done, turning Searlas without his permission, though she was glad he was by her side. “What kind of weird hokey-pokey power does Niall have anyway? And just who gave him permission to switch me to catatonic for the day?”
“I think our Gryph doesn’t care about asking permission much.”
“That’s got to change.”
“Right now, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Searlas glanced at his watch. “We have exactly fifteen minutes until the miasma opens entirely…” he noticed a piece of paper sticking from his front pocket.
“What is it?” Jenny asked as he opened it.
“It’s from Niall. He wants us to stay here, behind the plant.” Searlas patted himself down. “I have all my weapons. I just need to feed and we’re good to go.”
Jenny stood with him, allowing him to steady her in that manly way, though her footing was sure. Funny thing about Niall putting her out for the day was that she was well-rested, peaceful even, and hadn’t been forced to put up with any of Maxim’s goons. “I’ll feed you.”
“Jenny, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I can tolerate your thirst,” she argued.
“Maybe so,” he said, moving in for one ferocious kiss, his body cool against hers, his erection hard as a plank, “but I will have no choice but to fuck you, and we have no time for that.”
“I’ll stop you before it goes that far.”
“I know you’re strong, but you can’t stop me while I’m in that frame of mind.” He sighed. “I need more time to adjust to what I’ve become.”
“It’s just… I felt so close to you for those few swallows you’ve taken.” She looked under her lashes at him, running her fingertips over his shirt and circling his nipple rings. “It’s almost the same sensation as when you’re inside of me, and I don’t want you to share that with another.” She reached up and threaded his hair with her fingers, yanking his face down until his mouth touched her throat. “I want you to feed, Sear. I want it now.”
“Centuries, ago,” Cyna’s voice radiated with venom, “Undead Sentinels knew their place. And purebloods, Jen, never allowed fangs at their throats.”
Searlas jumped in front of Jenny, pulling her flush against his back. “Get the fuck away from her.”
She cocked her head. “I never took you for a poser.” Another step forward. “I guess I’ve been fooled by the best, but no more.” Cyna lashed out right as Jenny jumped to the left, leaving Searlas’ back to help him fight. In a blur, Cyna had Jenny’s back to her chest and a Druid-blessed, silver dagger pressed against Jenny’s throat.
When Jenny tried to bring her leg around Cyna’s ankle to trip her backwards, she sliced a thin line across Jenny’s flesh. The warm blood hit her skin, and the pain was nearly unbearable, the spell meant to deliver final death if the dagger were plunged into a werewolf’s heart.
“You see,” Cyna said as she started marching Jenny forward, “when an Undead awakens, he’s very, very hungry.” She pushed on the side of Jenny’s head, angling her so the wound opened further. “And sluggish. Otherwise, your Searlas would have caught my move.”
Cyna inclined her head for Searlas to get in front of them. Resigned, he started walking, his fangs shooting over his chin, his irises expanding and glowing. “But you, stupid little werewolf, should have caught it most of all. Not so tough now, are you?”
When they reached the side door to the nearest warehouse, Andreev stood waiting. Searlas gave him a cursory glance but kept walking as though he knew what Cyna wanted.
Andreev, however, didn’t stay quiet. “What are you doing with her?”
Cyna snorted. “You lost the right to ask when you took back your handfasting.”
Andreev looked furious, but said nothing as they walked through the warehouse and finally entered the underground chamber beneath, where the women were held. The first thing he noticed was that Maxim’s body was gone. The secon
d? That damn shadow was back on the wall. Andreev spun his head casually, looking for Commander fucking Syon, but the lunatic stayed in the shadows, too, biding his time to strike.
“Well, we have the Norwegian here,” Cyna said. “The only Norwegian mixed blood I could find. So I’m sure you realize what a deal you’re getting even at thrice the price.”
Andreev just stopped himself from tearing out her throat, only because he needed inside that grotesque prison cell right now. “Might I remind you the first bomb’s going off in ten minutes?”
With the dagger digging into Jenny’s throat, Cyna bit into her own wrist, then slung the blood on an ancient-looking padlock teeming with immortal fire. Quickly, the immortal fire sizzled inside the thin cables that interlocked the bars, causing a chain reaction as it died out, bar by bar. Then chain by chain, the shackles fell away from the women’s ankles.
“Why would Maxim make you the lock keeper?” Andreev couldn’t help but ask as he stood poised to get his white-haired, arctic-eyed angel. The Norwegian was staring at them all without emotion, as though she relished the thought of death as opposed to allowing Cyna to remove her from the cell.
Cyna’s eyes flashed black with an unspoken response.
Andreev fought back a shiver. Apparently, Cyna had gorged on Maxim’s dead body, had absorbed his blood so well that she could master his spells. All the more reason to get out of here, he realized.
When the last click sounded, the two front bars fell into the floor, producing a small opening for the Norwegian to leave.
“Come, girl, now,” Cyna drawled, flames of death leaping in her eyes. “Or do you want to feel my wrath?”
The female steeped forward, her dirty hair hanging over one side of her face, and she made no eye contact with anyone other than Jenny - a brief glance that said I’m sorry for what you're about to go through.
Andreev sensed the miasma lifting its veil right as the female passed by Cyna timidly, nearing his side. He cupped her throat. She stepped back on a gasp, her arms going up instinctively to protect herself, as Andreev brought his other arm around in an ironclad, predator’s hold.