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Tonight was for physical release, a pat on the back from the crime lord who paid our expenses and fed our bloodlust—nothing more.
So, while every fiber of my being rebelled, I let her go and went for our toy box. Brought with us from place to place, most islands equipped with an alpha club just like this, it had seen the world ten times over. Crouched in front of it, the wood battered but strong, the iron hinges well-oiled, I fished a key from one of three inner jacket pockets, undid the lock, and then handed both off to Kane. Lid lifted, I went for the folded rug first. All these places were the same: whoever built them prized aesthetics, not practicality.
How was a submissive, omega or not, meant to kneel on these ridiculous marble floors all night? How were we supposed to fuck her into oblivion when one thrust had her hands and knees on fire?
Therefore, with a dramatic flourish, I unfurled our freshly cleaned rug—grey, thick, scentless—and positioned it in front of the armchairs. I then snapped and pointed to the center, the crispcrackof my fingers startling little Hollis into action. She hopped on right away, padding to the middle, Kane and Laszlo her captive audience. Fangs nudging out from under their lips, her scent drove them just as wild as me, our coven connection a distracting mix of curiosity, desire, and a possessive longing that was starting to give me heartburn. Kane evenpurredwith approval, the sound making her knees buckle, but only briefly, the pair locked seconds later so she stayed upright.
Adorable.
Still crouched, I gave her my back and rooted around the chest for two specific items, our toy box meticulously organized courtesy of Laszlo and forever stocked with the newest depraved apparatuses thanks to Kane. When I found what I needed, I bit back a grin, anticipation a buoyant sensation in my chest, and stood.
Nipple clamps and a flogger.
I’d go easy on her, of course, but not because I had been feeling…things… since I happened upon her with Torvald. Shit-faced as always, I figured we’d run into the bastard at some point tonight, his pack loosely aligned with the Graves criminal empire, but I hadn’t expected he’d be the reason our gift was running late. He had wanted to claim her, bite her, fuck her—no doubt against her will—and from first sniff, I couldn’t let that happen.
Even if she wasn’t a gift from Aldo.
Even if she was just some omega wandering the club’s dungeon.
I…
No.
Stop this.
No wistful musings.
I’d go easy on her… because.
Because it was almost yuletide, and even gifts deserved a present of their own every now and again.
Yes.
Right.
“You know what makes blood its sweetest?” I asked, rounding on our wide-eyed omega and holding up two of my favorites. She took them in hurriedly, frantic gaze darting back and forth, and then slowly shook her head. Behind me, Kane rustled around inside the chest, massive frame lurched over his armrest, Laszlo’s sharp huff telling me our bond was absolutely destroying his archival system.
“Pain,” I rumbled, holding out both the flogger and the metal clamps, their pinchers rubber-tipped and made for beginners—and mortals who lacked supernatural healing abilities. “Only a little, mind you. Just enoughouchto get the adrenaline flowing.” I looked her up and down, slow and deliberate, hoping she felt very much like a sweet little doe being eye-fucked by a very hungry wolf. “Too much pain spoils it for everyone.”
Manyalphas, even those who professed to be experts at these games, lacked the skill to know the difference. In their eyes, playtime was all about them—and that was where they failed. Clearing my throat, I pocketed the nipple clamps for now, the pair connected by a thin gold chain that would look marvelous against her skin, and then combed my fingers through the leather tassels dangling from the flogger’s girthy braided handle.
“Now, remind me of your safe word, Hollis.”
Her jaw flickered through a clench, the use of her full name really grinding on her, but then lifted her chin and squared her shoulders.
“A-ambrosia.”
Oh,darling. For all that steeling herself, looking down her nose at me, posture perfect—the word still came out a hoarse whisper.
And it went straight to my cock, the possessive alpha in melovingthe fact that her safe word, her reassurance, her protection in all this, sounded so bloody close to my name.
An intentional choice, no doubt, made by Laszlo just so he could watch me sweat a little.
Metaphorically, of course.
Vampires didn’t perspire.
I swallowed a lusty groan and resisted the urge to make her say it again. At the snap and hiss of a lighter, I glanced over to Kane lighting a well-used black pillar candle. Smirking, my bond waited for the flame to catch, a well of wet, hot wax on the horizon, and then set it on the small black table between the two armchairs, right next to Laszlo’s abandoned bottle of O-negative. His bright copper gaze caught mine a beat later, and I quirked my brow, pleased with his addition to my scene.
