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“We can keep several bags of your blood in storage for me. Fresh from the source is obviously more pleasurable for all parties, of course.” He returned her grin and kissed her nose.
“Of course. Problem solved, then.”
Done talking for the moment, he bent and placed light kisses on the insides of her thighs and worked his way north. All the way to her slit, where he made her squirm by employing his talented tongue to make her a very happy vampire.
He licked and sucked, showing her exactly the same mercy she’d shown him moments before—none. Before long, she was writhing under his ministrations, every part of her on fire. Impending release coiled in her sex, and when it hit, she couldn’t hold back the tidal wave.
“Oh! Gods, yes!”
She bucked into his face, riding the storm. He wrung every last drop, lapping until she stilled, panting, under his hands.
At last, he gathered her into his arms and cuddled her on top of the covers. She snuggled into his chest, listening to his heartbeat and counting herself lucky. After all these lonely decades, since Stefano’s murder, she’d found joy again.
“Are you happy?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said softly. The truth was in his voice, his touch. “More so than I ever thought I deserved to be again.”
“You deserve everything. I’m going to make sure you get it.”
“Same here, baby.” He paused. “I want you to claim me.”
Rising up, she looked down into his earnest face, heart pounding in excitement. “Really? You mean that?”
“I do.” He smiled. “I want to plan something special for the two of us, to get away from the madness for a while. Then I want you to claim me as yours, forever.”
“Nick.” A tear escaped, and she smiled. “I’d love that.”
“Then it’s done. I don’t care what else is going on; tomorrow night, you and I will have some alone time to cement our bond.”
“Oh, Nick, that would be amazing.”
Snuggling into her mate’s side, Calla drifted off. This was how it was supposed to be. Two mates looking forward to their future, not living in fear.
Tomorrow night, for just a while, they would forget their troubles.
And they would be Bondmates, for good.
Eleven
A strangled shout jolted Calla from a sound sleep.
“No! I won’t!” Nick thrashed beside her in bed.
“Nick!” She shook him, hoping to wake him without alarming him more. “Honey, it’s me.”
His reaction was swift, and violent. Moving like a ninja, he pinned her to the bed and hovered over her, teeth bared. He was glaring down at her in the darkness, but his eyes weren’t seeing her.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he growled. “Why won’t you fucking stay dead?”
Oh, gods! “Nick! It’s me!”
He reached for her throat, and she reacted instinctively—she brought her knee upward and slammed him in the balls. Howling, he fell to his side on the bed and clutched his abused package. Her pulse thudded with fear as she scooted away, watching to see whether he’d go on the attack again.
He didn’t. Instead, the rage slowly left his eyes. He stared, waking by degrees until he rose up on one arm, gazing into her face as though he’d never seen her before.
“Calla?”
“Yes. Are you all right?”
