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I push her to the bed and flip her onto her stomach. “Hands and knees, lamb, and hold the headboard,” I growl. “Stay there so I can look at you.”

Bent over like this, her cunt swollen and dripping—this is how I want her. This pause before I take her, a whimper of want cutting the air.

“Marcella,” she whines. “Please. Please, please.”

I can’t wait anymore, my skin prickling with insistent hunger. I sink into her cunt, my insides tightening.

“Fuck,” I growl, dropping my lips to her shoulder as I press into her, over and over, so slow it might be torture.

Beneath me, she pants, her breaths gone frayed. And inside me, something sings hot and sweet. Swallowing hard, I fist a hand into her hair and pull her head back to look at me. There are no words for the feeling, just an inhuman groan as I near the precipice. Lacie’s whimpers pitch to cries, her insides tight and trembling as I drive into her.

Groaning, I drop my head to her shoulder. “Goddess, that’s it—I’m so close, Lacie. Scream for me like that—” My throat catches on the words as pleasure crests over me, my eyes sparkling with stars.

Lacie mewls for me, but I only spin her on the bed so that she’s beneath me, belly up. My fingers find her needy, begging insides, slicking through her sweet and hard and fast.

Hungry, hungry, hungry—

My lips drop to her swollen cunt, human tongue dragging gently across her tenderest spot until she tightens around my fingertips. Her legs tremble, tightening around my head. She’s so desperate for release, but I drag her back from the edge again, slowing down until she begs me with meaningless babble to let her go.

“You want to come?” I purr into her. “Now?”

Lacie whimpers, nodding. “P-please,” she stammers.

“Say my name, lamb,” I growl, drowning out the hunger ripping my insides to shreds.

“Marcella,” she groans, arching her back.

Grinning against her as her cries turn breathy and ragged, I fasten my lips over her clit and suck.

“Marcella,” she cries again, and shatters, riding my fingers as her hips buck.

I close my eyes as the secondhand pleasure sweeps me, so good my skin breaks out with fresh sweat. Satan’s teeth, she’s fucking everything, her skin awash with salt and stained pale pink with effort.

Breathing hard, she reaches for me. I curl over her, resting her damp forehead against my chest. Her heart slams hard, its drumbeat echoing in my ears.

This would typically be the time I’d clamp my teeth over my fuck’s throat, my tongue slithering in the rip in their skin to suck away their life force. But not Lacie.

Never Lacie.

Her breathing steadies and she swallows hard, shining eyes catching mine as I play idly with her hair.

“Babe,” I whisper. “You know you’re perfect, right? Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

She blushes, a smile pricking the edges of her lips. In this one moment, really the most fleeting of seconds, I can almost forget that there are vættir walking the halls of Preston, chasing us. Chasing her.

“What is it?” Lacie asks, uncurling her fingers below my collarbone.

I grasp them, lacing my claws through. Make sure she’s looking right into my eyes. “I won’t let them hurt you. I promise you. I’d sooner let them have me in your place. Understand?”

Her face shadows. “No.”

“Yes. Lamb, look at me. You don’t have to keep researching. We can get the fuck out of here together.”

She gnaws on her lower lip. “But what about Laurel? We’re no closer to finding out who killed her.”

“We know who did it, don’t we? Shea and Whittaker, together.” Putting the irritation out of my voice and dousing the fire spinning up inside me, I drag my nails across her stomach, cupping a breast. I shimmy down so I’m eye level with it, tracing my teeth around the delicate skin until it puckers. I want her to agree. I’m willing to work for it. For her.

Lacie writhes beneath my touch, spent and sensitive. “B-but—”