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He’d tweaked my nipples a few times, but so far, it’d mostly just been a hard, fast fucking that was absolutely exactly what I needed, but now, he slowed and pulled one of my nipples into his mouth — and then his fangs sank into either side of my right nipple and I felt the venom entering, and then my nipple was on fire. Seconds later, the other nipple got the same treatment, and then he sank both fangs into the right side of my clit, then the left, and the whole thing felt as if it were the size of a golf ball, and a thousand degrees.
“Fuuuuuuuuuck,” I drawled.
“Absolutely,” he told me, his voice vibrating against my clit, his tongue licking up one side, then the other, and I wondered if he was licking up a few drops of blood. The idea appealed to me, but not enough to look.
I have no idea when he had time to load a lube injector, but the next thing I knew, he’d squirted lube into my asshole and I was on all fours, turned so I could see him behind me in the mirror, taking aim at my asshole with his too-fat cock.
I kept my knees where he’d put them, but I dropped my chest onto the bed and arched my back, giving him an easier target. I needed him to open me, fill me, and then fuck me senseless.
The modern-day-woman part of me used to hate it that I wanted a man who was stronger than me, but I also get that it’s a wolf thing — my inner animal needs to know our man is worthy of us, deserves us, can handle us, and Marco had proven he’s the man for us more than once. This position brings her closer to the surface, and she savors the brutality of it. I let her come to the surface a little, so it was the three of us in the room. As always, Marco knew, and he put his hand on the back of my neck, holding me down while he forced his dick into my ass, opening me and owning me. Owning us.
But I was riding a wave of lust, craving everything Marco did, every movement, every little pain, every big pain. Fuck, but I needed the friction, the heat, the movement. I needed him inside me, pounding me. Anal always feels wrong, and yet so fucking right, when it’s Marco.
* * * *
Marco
I would never take this for granted. My perfect mate. We still had a ways to go before we merged our lives and became a true ruling couple, but we merged everything while we were in the throes of passion. I fucked her until we were both sore, and then drank my fill from her femoral artery, gave her another soul-shattering orgasm when she thought she couldn’t possibly have another, cleaned her up, tucked her in, and held her until she was good and asleep. My warrior wolf falls asleep dead-to-the-world in my arms, when she told me she’s never done so for another lover before. Her inner wolf remained alert with all others, even as she slept.
But they both trust me to keep them safe, and that means the world to me.
Chapter 9
Marco
I didn’t want to make this trip, but I didn’t see a way around it. The Master Vampire I’d put into Charlotte after Cecily’s removal had been challenged and beaten by a vampire calling herself Sybil. I’m certain she’s on the side of evil, but I haven’t been able to prove it. This means frequent trips to check up on her, and it’d been two months since I’d had feet on the ground in her city.
I left the coterie house the second the sun was down, and boarded my private plane twenty minutes later. I had some paperwork to deal with on the flight, but I was only traveling with my new assistant, and a shapeshifter bodyguard we could both feed from.
I’d purchased my assistant from the Concilio, so technically, he’s still a slave. He’s nearly seven hundred years old, but he’s never been free, so he’ll have to pass all the tests before he can be allowed his freedom, and I’m honestly not certain he’d pass them at this time. I’ll give him more and more freedom over the next fifty or so years, and then we’ll see if he’s ready. Or, that’s the plan.
Julian was a castrato in life — a Roman child with a beautiful singing voice who’d been sold to an opera company and then trained to perform. He’d been magnificent, by all accounts. Technically, he’d been thladiae, rather than castrato, but in that age, so long as the balls no longer functioned, the latter term was fine. It was safer to crush the balls than to cut them off, and two thirds of the children who went through that procedure lived, whereas barely a third of the children who had them sliced off at the root survived in an age without antibiotics and proper coagulants. In his human life, he’d been able to get an erection and keep it pretty much indefinitely, since he hadn’t been able to ejaculate, so the opera company had rented him out after the shows to the wealthiest women patrons. As an added bonus, he couldn’t get them pregnant.
One of those patrons happened to be a vampire, and she’d fallen in love with him and turned him when he was barely past twenty. She’d made him her sex slave, but later owners, male and female, had trained him to assist them in their lives and businesses on top of his sexual duties, and he was doing an excellent job of handling about half of what Patience had handled for me. A shifter couple I hired and moved into town is handling the other half of it, with the help of a management accountant and a party planner.
Julian is six foot four inches tall and has all the indications of giantism the castrati often exhibited. None of that was repaired by being turned, but since his balls were still intact, though destroyed on the inside, the magic managed to put them back together enough he can ejaculate now. His voice is still high pitched and childish, however. The magic has a mind of its own.
Julian is a big fan of sex, though, so he’s fit right into my coterie. Also, since he’s a slave, I can put limits on what the other vampires can do to him. If he were free, he’d be at the bottom of the hierarchy and everyone’s bitch — so to speak.
The wolf shifter coming along as our food had recently left the military. He’d interviewed with me and with Drake Security, but I’d offered twice what they would pay him, plus he’d live in the coterie house free of charge, so he’d signed a four-year contract with me.
“Furio, can you put these in the bins, please?” Julian asked the wolf once we were on the plane.
Furio’s military nickname had been Fury, but I felt like he needed an actual name and not a nickname. He told me he hadn’t been Jethro or Jed since high school, and he had no desire to ever be that person again, so I’d christened him Furio, and it fit.
“You’re plenty strong enough and tall enough to do it yourself, Julian,” I told him. “Stop asking for help. You aren’t a femme fatale or a diva anymore. Find your strength.”
Julian dropped to his knees. “Of course, Master. You’re right. I apologize.”
“Apology accepted. Stow our things.”
I looked to Furio. “The tablet Julian is about to give you has floorplans of the Charlotte coterie house, and detailed files on every vampire living there. I know you’ve seen it all before, but I feel it will be good for you to look over it again before we arrive.”
“Agreed, Sir. Thank you for providing it.”
I’m not accustomed to my security acting as travel planner, but Furio had assured me it would be best if he arranged for the limo to get us from the airport to the coterie house. I had a backup plan, just in case, but I had no reason to believe Furio would fail in this. It made sense that he’d know how to obtain safe transportation, because his unit had operated all over the world and had rarely come home to rest. He’d gone from one assignment to another, a series of high-level operations, with little down time. I wasn’t supposed to have seen those files, but Kelsey had hacked into a database that let me read some scary details. Nation against nation, fighting each other without the general populace of any of the countries knowing it.
Reading through his top-secret military file had made me doublecheck my gold and silver storage, and I’d bought more silver while I was at it. It wouldn’t take much for everyone to realize paper money isn’t worth the cotton it’s printed on, and for the economy to collapse us all back to the dark ages.
