Page 33 of Devoted

Tonight was for the living, and I wasn’t dwelling on what-could-have-beens.

“We’re all okay,” I whispered into his ear, sinking my teeth into his earlobe and tasting salt. “We’re alive, and we’re safe, and we even rescued Rocco.”

“Stop talking about fucking Rocco Demente,” Dante grumbled, fangs scraping over my skin. “You’re ruining the mood.”

“Fair enough.” I laughed softly, dragging my nose up his neck. Gods, he smelled so delicious, overflowing with power; hunger rose inside me. “May I?”

His grip on me tightened, fingers digging into my skin as his breathing picked up.

“Gods, yes. Drink from me,” Dante rasped hoarsely, tipping his head to the side, his pupils already blown wide enough to swallow the blue. “Put your teeth in me, wife.”

Inexplicably, this was Dante’s favorite thing. Feeding me. Or having me feed from him. I couldn’t fully comprehend why—something to do with vampire males taking care of their mates—but I knew exactly how he liked this to go.

And I was going to give my husband—my big, beautiful husband—exactly what he needed right now.

“You smell so good,” I purred, flattening my palms against his broad chest, his heart thudding like a drum against my palm. “Like leather and smoke and fire. And your taste… I can never get enough of you.” I ran my mouth down the tendon straining in his neck, pausing to press my teeth against corded muscle, picking up hints of salt and musk and pure male need. “Your blood was the first I ever had, and this only gets better every time.”

I swirled the tip of my tongue around the throbbing spot marked faintly by two small, white scars, and Dante groaned, his big body trembling beneath me, stiff cock pressed tight against my ass.

My husband tasted like home.

And his blood… gods, his blood was sublime.

Hot and heady and tasting of spice and leather and something so pure, unadulterated Dante, I would never get enough.

I sank my fangs in agonizingly slow, piercing layers of skin and muscle until I reached the pulsing vein, knowing Dante craved that pinch of pain as much as he loved my mouth on him. Sealing my lips around the bite, I drew my first intoxicating mouthful, warm and rich, pure power flooding through me with a rush of sudden heat.

With a rough groan, he slipped a hand between my legs, prying them open so he could run his fingers through my pussy, grunting in satisfaction when he found me dripping. Plunging two blunt fingers in deep, he curled the ends and dragged them out so slow, I nearly broke my seal on his throat.

Our bodies tided together, moving in a long wave as I drank and he stroked, one long, perfect wave of sensation and lightning-hot wanting, neither of us wanting to break the moment, both of us craving being bonded together.

By blood and this quiet, soft feeling I know has to be love.

One more swallow and another rush of delicious heat filled me up, igniting me from the inside out. Another overwhelmed me, my eyelids growing heavy, my body sagging in his arms. His thumb found my clit and started that slow rotation, finding exactly the right pressure.

“That’s it, take what you need. I’ll give you everything, Emberline. It’s my privilege to take care of my beautiful wife. To feed you. To have you at my throat.”

Boneless and flying, I drank slow, trying not to be greedy. Failing, taking one extra sip… then another, pleasure ratcheting higher and higher, my husband’s long, clever fingers coaxing me toward a breaking that would shatter me.

And teetering on the edge, all I wanted was to shatter.

For him to break me into a million pieces then put me back together, like always.

My low groan matched his as I exploded, my core clamping down on his fingers as I climaxed, everything disappearing except the taste of my husband’s blood in my mouth and the feel of his fingers deep inside me, his heart’s steady thumping against the palm of my hand.

I licked the bite closed, leaned my cheek against his warm chest, and the room turned into a fog.

I didn’t know how many hours later I woke, disoriented as I jerked out of a deep, dreamless sleep, a heavy hand splayed across my stomach, grounding me in the darkness as I got my bearings.

That was Gabriel’s hand, pressed to my belly; Dante was on my other side, both of them curled around me like I was a pearl within the shell of their bodies. Protected and safe and suddenly very, very warm.

My husband was a virtual furnace, heat blasting off him like a forge, and I inched the covers down, down, down, trying not to wake either of them.

After today, they had to be exhausted, but where was Nico?

I lifted my head, scanned the bedroom. The sky outside was starless. Moonless. But even without light, I knew he wasn’t here because there were no shadows deeper than the night itself. No pale eyes, watching me from the darkness.

“I told you to be ready when I came out,” Gabriel murmured, rubbing circles on my stomach, fingers inching lower and lower. “I didn’t think you’d fall asleep on me.”