Pierre spread her wide, her thighs straddling Louis’, baring her for his touch. He teased her slippery folds with two fingers before sliding them inside her. He knew exactly what she needed, how she needed it. Louis captured her moan with his mouth, and as though by silent communication, they set up a rhythm—Louis’ tongue, Pierre’s fingers, and the press of Louis’ cock against her clit. As masterful as their malware code, they set off every trigger in her body. Played her like virtuosos—strumming her to a crescendo she might never come down from.
She broke, gasping for air, spasm after spasm, spurred on by the deep, satisfied rumbles of two males, one in front and one behind. With residual spikes of pleasure shooting through her, she dropped her head against Louis’ shoulder.
Pierre curled himself over her, his weight on his forearms, caging but not crushing her. “Are you ready,bébé?”
Ready?No. Yes. Maybe.
“Should we both have her, Pierre? Claim her in all ways she can be claimed?”
Melinda stilled. All ways she could be…? She met Louis’ eyes and saw the hope in them. Pierre ran his hands down the cleft of her ass. She couldn’t help the flinch.
Pierre shifted his hand to her hip. “I don’t think she’s ready for that yet.”
Louis pulled her mouth down to his and kissed her fears away. “Nothing you don’t want,chouqette.Not until you’re ready.”
The head of Pierre’s cock nudged her entrance. “So we’re clear, Melinda. We’re keeping you. Forever. We’re going to protect you and love you for the rest of your life.”
“Non,” murmured Louis. “For the rest ofourlives.”
If ever there was a declaration, there it was. And she wanted what they were offering with every fiber of her being.
“Yes. I’m ready.” To make sure they understood exactly what she was telling them, she said, “Bite me.”
Pierre thrust inside her, filling her, and Louis rolled his hips. The friction was intense, the sensation overwhelming and as they worked together to bring her undone again, she gave herself over to it, dropped her internal walls and opened herself to them. Trusting them. Letting herself get lost in the pleasure storming through her body.
She barely noticed when they nuzzled her neck, one on either side. The rasp of their tongues over the pulse in her throat only added to the sensation between her thighs. The sting of teeth nipping at her skin sparked an insistent pressure at the base of her spine. She was close. Oh, so close.
Pierre thrust harder, hitting nerves deep inside her, and as her orgasm roared through her, they struck, latching onto her throat as they pounded her to heights she’d never experienced before.She screamed, but not from pain, her whole body convulsing between them as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.
Louis licked their mate’s throat, lapping at her wounds as Melinda collapsed on his chest. Before the turning could take hold, Pierre grabbed a syringe, prepped her limp arm, and gave her the sedative. Melinda mumbled something as she snuggled into him, and it wasn’t long before she was sleeping soundly.
For three days, they would keep her sedated, then her training would begin. Louis grinned. Training, he’d heard, was fun. Maintaining form was a skill all werewolves needed to learn. Mishaps occurred. Uncalled for shifts resulting in ripped clothes and naked bodies. His grin widened. When training one’s mate, that meant lots and lots of sex.
Pierre growled at him. “I know what you’re thinking, Louis.”
He quirked an eyebrow at his twin. “And you’re not?”
A smile tugged at the corner of Pierre’s lips.Oui, his brother was looking forward to training their mate, too.
Pierre disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a wet cloth. As Louis cradled Melinda in his arms, Pierre cleaned her up. The twin puncture marks on either side of her throat, he left alone. Those would be the first things to heal as her body transitioned from human to werewolf.
With a toss of the cloth toward the en suite, Pierre joined them on the bed, and they cradled her between them.
Pierre brushed a strand of dark hair off her face. “She’s ours now, Louis.”
“Ours.” And no stinking Faucherian was ever getting near their little mate ever again. Not while he still breathed.
Chapter Thirty-One
Two weeks later
Pain rippled through her as Cordelia forced her eyes open to a familiar scuffed timber floor, a cold fireplace and a simple slab table. She was in the one place she never permitted anyone to see. The one nobody except her knew existed, almost as humble as the little mud hut she’d grown up in. Unable, even after all the years, the centuries that’d passed, to turn her back on the memories of her roots.
She groaned, struggling to her feet, every bone, every muscle in her body on fire. She grabbed one of the many canes she kept around the place. Her body was too old and weak for her to use her time-traveling spell, but Veilluex had left her little choice.
Cordelia cracked her cane against a chair leg.Fool of a man.They’d known from the warehouse the Langeais wolves had a way to counteract the effects of wolfsbane, but Veilluex had had confidence in the barrels of wolfsbane he’d had shipped in, and his men. And, he’d argued, they had the woman, the cipher. And her. What werewolf could defeat the powerful Cordelia?
Except Cordelia was no longer as powerful as she’d once been. Her memory was fading as fast as her body, and without her grimoire, she had few spells at her disposal. Along with her home, it was something she’d allow no one to know about. Not even her kin. Her power to control them maintained only through their fear of what she could do to them. What she usedto be able to do. She’d once boiled a man alive from the inside out. If only she could do that now.
