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Or one of the fucking Blood Mages, I don’t know which just yet.
Max looks at his brother, then back at me. “Do you think you should feed?”
Feed. Right. Because that’s what I do now.Blood is the fuel for my strange, unwanted powers, whether I like it or not. Just anothergiftfrom those bastard mages.
Man, I don’t want to feed. I don’t want tohaveto feed.
Briefly, I consider the alternative, meeting whatever’s radiating this from the forest, totally unprepared. We could all die. If Icharge up first, so to speak, at least we’ll have a fighting chance.
I sigh. “Yeah, that's probably a good idea.”
“Feed?” questions Orson, apparently no longer smart enough to keep the question to himself.
"Feed," I repeat, not quite embarrassed, but not wanting to say more. Because he’ll see enough to figure it out.
At least this little show should kill the attraction between Orson and me, because there's nothing wolves hate more than vampires. If he doesn't downright hate me after this, he should be freaked out… between the vampire thing and half-breed thing.
“I got it this time,” Braxton says in an off-handed way.
Max looks pissed for the briefest moment, then nods.
Braxton starts to walk further into the woods, but I stop him when we’re just a short distance away, pushing him up against a nearby tree. It’s far enough to give a sense of privacy and close enough that Orson will see what I really am. Braxton gives me a questioning look, glancing toward Orson.
I shake my head. "It’s okay. You ready?"
He licks his lips even though I'm the one hungry at the thought of his blood. "Ready."
Standing up on my tiptoes, I hesitate for a moment as I focus on his pulse. Memories of his sweet blood slip through my mind, and I feel my body heating up. This feeding thing, it’s not just about fueling my body. It turns me on, and for some reason, that makes me feel a little ashamed.
“Asha?” he whispers my name, arousal making his voice husky.
Reaching up, I stroke his throat, and he turns to allow me better access. I turn him further and lick his throat, feeling the shudder that rolls through his body in response. Unable to stop myself, I pounce on Braxton, wrapping my legs around his waist while he places his hands underneath my ass to hold me up. Sinking my teeth into the side of his neck, I draw the warm life-force from his body, savoring the metallic flavor and the essence that is uniquely Braxton.
The head rush blooms. On its heels, the vibration follows, awakening every cell in my body. Braxton groans and sighs, his hands gripping my ass, his cock stiffening in his pants, grinding himself against my hot core. But after a moment, I sense him weakening as he leans further against a tree.
His brother is there in an instant, offering me his neck. I’m passed from one brother to the other, wrapping myself around Max’s brawn as he holds me against him. My teeth easily sink into his throat, and my head spins with the rush of his blood and his unique flavor coating my tongue. As the power filters down through my body, I feel it writhing of its own volition, and I grind against Max, feeling powerful and needy. He growls, pushing his hard erection against me in response while I feast.
In my periphery, I notice Orson watching, far from the disgust I’d expected to see, he appears fascinated, maybe even aroused by the display. A strange desire to taste him too rolls through me, even though some part of me knows that’s greedy. Two men should be more than enough.
“Got enough?” Braxton asks me, reminding me to slow down. To not take too much.
But, god, it’s hard not to want every drop of these men.
I retract my teeth from Max’s neck, and he slowly lowers me to the ground. My body slides down the front of his, our eyes lock for the briefest moment, and I get the sense that if Orson wasn’t here, we’d be fucking. Damn it. Wiping my mouth off on my sleeve, I turn to look at Braxton, seeing the same heated look on his face.
“Do you need to feed on me?” asks Orson.
In unison, the brothers respond emphatically, “No.”
Of course not. As strange as our relationship has become, Braxton and Max seem like the possessive type. Just a short time ago, I didn’t even think they could handle sharing me between the two of them. I think they’d let us all die before letting me feed on Orson.
“You sure?” Orson asks again, and his gaze runs over me.
“We’re sure,” Braxton says, his voice low and threatening.
I chuckle and proceed along the trail. “Come on, boys.” I ought not to enjoy their archaic, masculine possessiveness, but admittedly it does a little something for me. Jealousy’s a bit of a turn on. What can I say?
But that happy feeling slips away as quickly as it came with the sharp scent of dark magic combined with smoke.Trouble is what it is, and not of the four legged variety.
