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Writhing against Cypress’s hips, he mimicked fucking himself on Cypress’s cock, thrusting up into Cypress’s earnestly pumping fist. He imagined what it would feel like to have Cypress inside him as their bodies moved together as one. A connection like that...with this man…
He leaned down to press his lips against Cypress’s. He knew Cypress wanted it too. Wanted to fuck him into oblivion. That knowledge added to Haven’s pleasure. His eyes rolled back as he panted into Cypress’s mouth. He was going to spill.
“I’m going to—” he gasped.
“Me too,” Cypress moaned. “Please, Haven. I want to feel you.”
Haven cried out as his cock jerked and sputtered its seed into Cypress’s hand and on his own shaft. Slickened by Haven’s spend, Cypress joined him in orgasm only moments later.
Haven came down against Cypress’s broad chest, panting like a dog. Some of the desperation had subsided. But, again, he felt it rising in his chest. The Ambrosia wouldn’t let him rest. Heneededmore. He would continue to need until the drug left his system.
He couldn’t ask more from Cypress.
Abruptly, he ripped himself from Cypress’s arms, attempting to hide the shaking of his hands. Tucking his reawakening length back into his pants, he turned his back to the human who gazed up at him with softly sated eyes.
“Haven, what’s wrong?” He reached out gently. Like a lover might.
Haven needed to stop this before it started. To protect this beautiful human, he needed to close off the blossoming waves of attraction that had come to envelop them both. He had stopped himself this time. But if Thorne had anything to say about it…this merciful moment would be the only one of its kind.
“I’ve no more need of you,” he said, hardening his voice and straightening his posture. He drew his jaw tense and firm, locking Cypress in a callous glare. “You’ve served your purpose. I’m retiring for the day.”
“My purpose?” Cypress balked. His expression showed pain, hurt. Betrayal?
Haven’s heart ached to see it. He forced himself to close walls over such sentiment. “The release was satisfactory enough to get me through a solid sleep.”
“Wait—”
“What did you think this was? Lovemaking? You thought I cared for you now that you brought me to orgasm? You’re nothing. You forget your place.”
“Haven, you don’t mean that…”
“You have no idea what I mean, how I feel. You’re not my lover. You’re my slave. Perhaps I’ll use you again when I feel like it.” The words burned as they came from his mouth. By the look of horror on Cypress’s face, they felt the same to him.
“You’re not cruel. You fought the urge to kill me. If you truly meant those words, you wouldn’t have restrained yourself. You’re trying to push me away. Aren’t you?”
“I’ve nothing more to say.” Haven gathered himself and headed toward his sleeping quarters, leaving Cypress open-mouthed in the middle of the room. “Think what you will. This changes nothing.”
But as Haven shut the door behind him, he heard Cypress’s small whisper, “It changes everything.”
Locking himself inside, Haven suppressed a sob, a wave of despair washing over him. Sinking to the floor of his windowless cave, he leaned against the wall and wrapped his fist around his cock. Weeping, he brought himself to passionless release just to numb the pain. Over and over again. Until, hours later, when the swell of the Ambrosia had died, and all that was left was grief and loneliness.
CHApTER FifTEEn
Cypress
What had hedone wrong?
Cypress stared at the door through which Haven had disappeared, his heart aching. He’d done something. Messed up somehow. And just when he’d gotten close enough to touch, when Haven had been pliant beneath his fingertips, he’d pushed him away. Perhaps far enough that he’d never return.
Dammit. He knew he shouldn’t have allowed himself that indulgence. Perhaps he’d taken advantage of Haven after all. He should have resisted Haven’s advances. Should have remained firm.
But instead, he’d given in. He’d given in and taken what he’d wanted. He’d desired Haven since he’d first seen him. He supposed it was inevitable that when given the opportunity to touch, he’d taken it.
Sleep claimed him, almost reluctantly. And that night, he dreamed of Haven rather than his mother for the first time in what felt like years.
But the following evening woke him with less than gentle hands.
Haven still had not risen as several vampyre soldiers flooded into the room. They pulled Cy to his feet, binding his hands behind him and stringing him along without a word.
