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He entered Saint’s bedroom. Saint remained on the bed, on his back, wings splayed to either side. He seemed to be sleeping. His breathing wasn’t labored and his heartbeat was a steady, strong rhythm.
This was it; this time, it was going to work.
“Okay, big bad wolf.” Octavius stepped over his wing and rolled up his own sleeve as he approached the bedside. “It’s just you and me.”
Octavius paused, studying Saint’s nyktelios face. He might not get another chance to see his true appearance up close while serene, and it was worthy of admiration. Saint was pureblood nyktelios, first generation, and his proud features, killing teeth, and substantial body made a glorious sight.
Octavius’s mouth dried, and a few fluttering nerves skittered in his belly. He swallowed, sat on the edge of the bed, and bit into his own wrist. There was no reason to be anxious. He’d done this before, and if Saint lashed out, he just had to demand Saint back off.
Pushing his nerves aside, he flexed his hand into a fist and turned it over, pressing the bleeding wound to Saint’s warm lips. Lust shivered through him, a perfectly normal reaction. He just had to keep his desires reined in for Jayden’s sake later. He could not attack him again like an out-of-control freshly turned nyk.
He wouldn’t have reacted like that if he hadn’t been starved of this by the Brotherhood. Saint would tell him the same. That the Brotherhood had held Octavius back—Mikalis had held him back. Deliberately.
Saint’s teeth clamped in, his claw-tipped fingers grabbed Octavius’s wrist, just like before, and Octavius closed his eyes, letting it happen. This was right. It even felt right, now he wasn’t fighting the Brotherhood ways. Saint, Jayden, and Octavius. Nyktelios and human: feeding, protecting, thriving. Like it had been, long ago.
Saint’s tongue lapped and another lustful fizzle tugged on Octavius’s efforts to remain calm and controlled. He opened his eyes and stared straight into Saint’s stunning silver eyes. That gaze pierced through all doubt and every single reason why this was bad, striking at the beast within. Unguarded, he had no defense against that piercing stare, and desire simmered hotter.
He had to be better, had to control this.
It wasn’t about fucking; he needed Saint strong from blood so he’d be able to feed from Jayden without killing him. That was all this was. But the more he held Saint’s eye, the more his needs boiled. His dick hardened, trapped uncomfortably in his pants.
Saint would know he was aroused. If Saint didn’t taste arousal in his blood, he’d smell it. Nyks were creatures of need.
Just a little more, then Octavius could leave, and maybe he’d take Jayden up on his offer to suck his dick. It didn’t have to become a regular thing. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Jayden, more that he wanted… Saint.
He tore his gaze from Saint’s, but Saint’s growl rumbled through the bed, and through Octavius. He wanted Octavius looking at him as he fed, but that would make the urges worse.
By Nyx, he was better than this, he had better control than this.
He lifted his eyes, and there was Saint’s glare, as hungry as before, but now, when Octavius locked gazes with him, Saint’s tongue swept up his wrist and continued on. He dragged his fangs up Octavius arm, not piercing skin, just scraping, moving to his inner arm, where the vein pulsed. Saint’s mouth opened, and his bristling teeth slid through flesh. There was no venom. Saint had control of himself.
Now was not the time.
Saint was recovering.
Besides, Saint needed Jayden forthat—for sex. He probably didn’t even want Octavius.
Saint’s mouth pulled, his tongue probed, and Octavius rode tantalizing waves of pleasure. It was by accident, when he looked away for a second time, that he saw how Saint’s cock stretched his torn pants. Nyktelios cocks werebigger. Like everything about them in their true form was bigger. Octavius just hadn’t really paid that much attention to nyk anatomy before. He was looking now though, his mouth watering, teeth aching to sink in while his own dick pulsed with every pull from Saint’s mouth, as though Saint’s hot, wet lips were sealed around Octavius’s dick, sucking him off.
Saint’s fangs slid from Octavius’s skin, but he still gripped his arm, and then he twisted, rising onto a knee, to face Octavius. They’d been this close when they’d fought, and violence shimmered in Saint’s scrutiny now too, alongside raw, desperate need.
Perhaps Octavius should shed his human appearance too, if only to protect himself.
Saint breathed hard, his fangs gleamed, his chest heaved. He was either going to sink his teeth into Octavius’s neck and kill him or sink his dick into him and fuck him raw. And as Octavius looked up at the nyktelios of legend and lore, he knew there was one outcome he desperately, thoroughly, with every piece of him wanted.
Saintmoved. But he didn’t move in a way Octavius could track. He moved too fast, moved through the gloom, and from one blink to the next, he grabbed Octavius, wrestled him around so fast that the room blurred, and then he was chest down on the dresser with Saint’s heavy breathing sawing at his neck. He’d stopped with Octavius bent under him.
It felt hard: the position Octavius had been thrown into, the hand between his shoulders, the dresser beneath him. But hard in a real, raw way. Hard, like it hurt, and he wanted it to so he could feel everything deep in his bones.
“Do you want me, Little Wolf?” The voice was more monster than man, and it set off a riot of chaotic need racing through Octavius’s already scorched veins.
“Yes.”He replied in his mind, fearing the word would leave his lips garbled.
Saint tore Octavius’s trousers free. Fabric burns scorched his thighs. The pain felt good, felt real. Saint’s hands clasped his ass and spread his cheeks. Cool, hard claws scraped his hips, and then Saint’s probing, wet tongue skimmed his hole so damn gently that Octavius let out a whimpering moan. He needed this. It had been… too long. Forever. He needed to be fucked.
His cock was pinched against the dresser, but that felt good too, felt sharp, and as Saint’s tongue swirled his dick wept pre-cum, wetting his lower abs and slicking up the dresser top. He was losing his damn mind. Venom leaked too, bitter on his tongue, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. The creature he’d become raged for more, for Saint, for pain, for blood, to be fucked and taken.
And Saint answered. When his mouth vanished, he thrust his thick hardness deep inside Octavius so hard and so fast, his vision turned white and pain raced up his back, splitting him apart. He gasped, too full, too shocked. And then Saint’s claws caught his hips, holding him rigid as his wide length withdrew, then slammed back in.
