by J. D. Tyler
He sank to the hilt, filling her impossibly. Their fit was perfect. Pleasure shot through every cell as he began to pump in and out. Stroking inside her, making the fires burn almost out of control.
Her fangs lengthened and her aggressive vampire nature took over with a vengeance. Hunger tightened her gut—hunger for the blood of her mate. She could barely keep the urge contained as he fucked her thoroughly. She longed to put his back to the rock face and bury her fangs in his throat. Drink until he came all over her belly from her feeding alone.
One day, she would do just that.
That fantasy, and the reality of now, pushed her over the edge. Her orgasm hit with brutal force, and she screamed, uncaring whether anyone heard. Pure joy washed over her again and again as Nick buried himself as deep as possible and jerked inside her, filling her womb with liquid heat.
Never had sex with any man been so raw. So explosive.
“Oh, my gods,” she whispered. “I can’t wait for us to make love while I feed on you. I want to taste you so much right now.”
Against her back, he stiffened. And as her brain began functioning properly again, she realized she’d said exactly the wrong thing. He slipped from her body and pulled back. Quickly, she turned to face him, taking in his pale cheeks and the fear in his darkened eyes.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Of course you need time—”
“No.”
That word, so cold and final, struck fear in her soul. She reached for him. “I know what you’ve been through, and I won’t push for more than you can give.”
He laughed, and the sound was bitter. “And what if I can never give you more than a good fuck?”
That hurt. But she knew he was afraid. “I don’t believe that. You need time, and I promise I can be patient.”
“Don’t you understand?” he asked, chest heaving. “Darrow ruined me. I can’t stand the thought of a vampire’s fangs piercing my skin. Even yours. The idea repulses me, Calla.”
“Oh.” The word escaped as a soft sound, as though she’d been stabbed. Tears flooded her eyes and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to get away. From him, and this place that should’ve been so special to them.
She stood frozen as he gathered the remnants of her clothing. Couldn’t breathe as he pulled her from the waterfall and back onto dry land. He handed her the bundle, his expression stoic.
“Wouldn’t want anyone to find these,” he said. “No telling what they might think.”
“It doesn’t matter what they think. You’re my mate.” Her bold declaration was met with a grim stare.
“And you’re mine. But I’m not fit to be your mate. Not now, maybe not ever.”
She tried to hold back the tears, but they fell anyway. “You’re going to run from me without even trying? Is that it?”
“Not running,” he insisted. “I just need time. Time to think. I don’t know if I can be the man you need.”
Her voice broke. She couldn’t help it. “I know you already are. But you have to know it, or we won’t work out.”
For a moment, he looked like he might take her in his arms. Instead, he nodded toward her mountain home. “I won’t leave you out here alone. Go, before your brother or a guard comes looking if they haven’t already.”
It wouldn’t do any good to stand here and argue with him. Not with their emotions so raw. As much as it hurt, he was right—he had to come to terms with what Darrow had done to him before he could accept his place as her mate. And accept her as his, with all that entailed.
“All right. But this isn’t good-bye, Commander. Not by a long shot.” Wiping her tears, she pinned him with a determined look. “I don’t give up easily and I don’t think you do, either.”
“Until later,” he said.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Lifting her chin, she teleported away, leaving him standing there looking as lost as she felt. Seconds later, she was in her private quarters, alone. Without Nick. Not the ending she’d imagined after the wonderful lovemaking they’d just enjoyed.
Tossing the bundle of tattered clothing on the floor, she walked to her bed and sat down, staring at a picture on the wall. Not just any picture, but one of her and Stefano, taken decades ago. They’d been so happy, so in love.
After his murder, she had never hoped to find another mate. She hadn’t wanted anyone else, ever. Then she’d met Nick at that party, placed her hand in his. Looked into his eyes, and was gone. She’d known instantly what he was to her. Or what he could be, if only. Now it seemed as though fate had gifted her with another mate, but one so damaged he might never open himself to happiness.
She’d lost Stefano. She might lose Nick before they began.
Unable to hold back the flood, she let herself indulge in a good, hard cry. She sobbed until she was hiccupping, finally cried out. Though she felt better, crying solved nothing.
She was still alone, and to make matters worse, she was hungry. The burning in her gut wouldn’t be denied. Though she didn’t want anyone but her mate, she had to feed or be sick. At least they hadn’t officially mated yet, or she’d be forced to starve.
With a shudder, she dressed in comfortable sweats and a T-shirt. Screw it. She wasn’t going back to Tarron’s gathering. Once she was clothed, she used her cell phone to call one of her favorite guards, who was always happy to serve as her donor. She would survive, day by day.
Nick would be hers. Somehow, she would help him through his nightmare so they could be together.
She was sure of it.
* * *
From the safety of the trees, the vampire watched the commander fuck his fiery princess.
He’d been careful to make certain he stayed downwind, to avoid being detected by the wolf’s superior sense of smell. Picking his way soundlessly after them, he’d remained hidden as the wolf had pressed Calla to the ground. Even he was shocked, thinking the wolf intended to take her in animal form.
Actually, he was disappointed when the wolf had shifted back. Damn his own kinky black heart.
Disappointment was quickly forgotten, however, as the two had proceeded to the waterfall to engage in a scorching scene he was surprised hadn’t boiled the water. When Westfall had turned the woman to face the rock and plunged inside her, the vampire’s own cock had turned to steel in his pants.
Oh, he watched. Every thrust and moan. Every single cry of pleasure. He stood there panting with equal parts longing and hatred, until the commander reached a magnificent finish, emptying himself inside the one who was, quite possibly, his mate.
Then he listened to every word of their postcoital conversation and smiled. Trouble in paradise before the mating even happened? Fucking perfect. He couldn’t have hoped for a better scenario. The best revenge of all had fallen right into his hands, and he hadn’t lifted a finger.
After the couple had gone, the vampire freed his rampant erection. Gripped it in a tight fist and stroked himself quickly to orgasm, his seed pumping onto the grass. It was a cold, lonely release.
And the blame rested on the commander and his wolves. On Tarron and his men as well.
He’d pay them back for destroying what was his. Very soon.
As he tucked himself back in and zipped his pants, he heard a noise coming from the trail. Seeing that it was Jinn, he stepped from his hiding place.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Jinn said, eyeing him. “I saw Westfall walking back inside, but he didn’t see me. Did you learn anything?”
“Oh, yes, I did.”
Quickly, he outlined what he’d seen and heard—especially the enlightening chat between the lovers at the end. Then he instructed Jinn on what course of action they would take next.
“I know I can trust you to carry out my wishes,” he said gravely.
Jinn nodded. “To the letter, Master. I won’t fail you.”
“See that you don’t. And keep your involvement a secret, for now. No need to tip our hand too soon.”
“As you wish
.”
“Let us rejoin the gathering. Separately, of course.”
“Yes, of course.”
Resisting the urge to shake his head, the vampire left the Sorcerer standing in the path and made his way back to the stronghold. He could practically feel Jinn’s eyes burning a hole in his back, his devotion palpable. Yes, that was what love did.
It left you alone, and miserable.
With any luck, for Jinn that message would hit home far too late. After he’d served his purpose.
Nobody noticed when he slipped back into the party. Nobody particularly cared about his presence. But that would change, and they would all wish they’d paid more attention.
Especially when he and his men laughed at their screams and bathed in their blood.
* * *
Carter trailed a finger through the red liquid on Nick’s bloody back and brought it to his lips. Tasted. Nick fought to remain conscious. Knew he’d have to fight to survive what was still to come.
“Delicious blood. Born shifters taste so exquisite, not even the finest red wine can compare to the full-bodied richness.”
“Get off me, you freak,” Nick hissed, yanking against his bonds.
“Don’t be so dramatic. After all, you’re going to love the next part.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Remember what I said before? Your mate loved what I did to her. . . .” Darrow moved close, into his captive’s back. Ran a palm down his shoulder and side, rested his chin at the crook of his prey’s neck as a lover might do.
“No,” Nick whispered. “Don’t.”
“Oh, yes. I’m going to feed from you, wolf. And you’re going to love every moment of it . . . right until you breathe your last.”
“You twisted motherfucker—”
Nick’s words were cut off as Darrow struck, sliding his fangs into the curve of his captive’s neck. He cried out, his body tense . . . and then he relaxed, letting out a hoarse moan. At last, he was defeated. Broken.
With a dark laugh, Darrow pulled their bodies together tightly, Nick’s back to his front, and began to feed slowly. With long pulls and the occasional lick, nuzzling his prey’s neck, then repeating. His captive sank further under the wicked spell, unable to stop what was happening. Past caring.
Seduced.
“You’re mine now,” Darrow murmured against his skin. “Say it.”
“I’m yours.”
“What do you want, wolf?”
“Drink from me. Take it all.”
“Patience. I’ll do as you wish. After we’ve enjoyed this fully.”
Nick jolted from the nightmare, heart thumping in his chest, slick with sweat. No, not a nightmare—the memory of what Darrow had done to him. Day and night, the horror never left him. The shame.
The shame most of all, because he’d given in. His worst enemy had seduced his body, fucked up his mind. Even though he could still see Calla’s stricken face at the waterfall days ago, even though he wanted to make it right, this was the reason he couldn’t.
He didn’t know how to get past this.
After taking a few deep breaths, he settled in again and tried to sleep. It was a long time coming, but eventually he slid back into dreams.
The mountain fortress trembled with the onslaught.
Acrid smoke clogged his lungs and his nose. Fire surged to the ceiling, consuming everything it touched with its greedy fingers. All around him, death and destruction rained down, claiming his men. His friends and allies.
Calla? Where was she?
“Calla!” he yelled. “Calla!”
If she’d fallen, too—
“Noo.”
Nick came awake again, and sat on the side of the bed. Running both hands through his sweat-soaked hair, he blew out a tired breath and tried to make sense of the vision. Or was it simply a nightmare?
Usually, he could tell the difference. But not this time. That was probably because even though he was a PreCog, his gift didn’t extend to being able to see his own future—only that of those around him.
Calla’s future intersected with his, so perhaps this was why he’d been given a glimpse of hers. Was this the fate that awaited his mate if he didn’t get his act together? For her to be lost to him forever?
Or was his stress simply manifesting itself in his dreams? He wished he knew.
A glance at the clock showed it was just after five in the morning. Early but not so much that he cared to fight for sleep any longer. Rising, he padded naked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. While the water was getting hot, he brushed his teeth. Then he stepped under the spray and groaned as it pounded on his sore muscles.
He ached from the punishing workout he’d given himself in the gym the evening before. He’d hoped to exhaust himself into oblivion, but it wasn’t to be. Now the water made him think of Calla’s sleek, naked body under the waterfall and his cock lifted to half-mast. The memory of her spread and ready for him, of sliding himself deep into her channel, wrung a groan from his lips.
What would it have been like if he’d allowed her to claim him? That was such a natural step for Bondmates, and his wolf rumbled in agreement.
Taking his steely rod in hand, he relished the feeling of the water cascading over his dick as he stroked. In his fantasy, Calla faced him and pressed her breasts against his chest, a gorgeous water nymph ready to take him to heaven.
She kissed his lips, tangled her tongue with his. His palm worked faster, his cock swelling as he pictured her attentions moving to his jaw. His neck.
There, she teased his skin with the tip of her tongue. Just there, over the vulnerable artery. One fang grazed the spot where she would claim him—
And her body became hard. Male.
Carter.
Fear seized his chest and he gasped, opening his eyes as his erection suffered a swift death. As dead as he would have eventually been in Carter’s hands.
Disappointment enveloped him like a shroud. He couldn’t even fantasize about what should be a beautiful act between mates without the awful memories ruining it. For a moment, he rested his head on the tiles and tried to get his shit together.
He would put this behind him. Things had to improve, right? Getting out of the shower, he dried off and dressed in jeans, boots, and a T-shirt, and headed for his office. The kitchen staff wouldn’t have breakfast ready to serve until six, so he had plenty of time. Maybe some paperwork would provide the distraction he needed.
Halfway there, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling out the device, he scowled at the screen. Damien, again. What the fuck did that asshole want, and so early in the morning? And why the hell didn’t he just take the hint and fuck off?
But no. It was like some Mexican standoff. Damien was determined to speak to Nick, and in turn Nick was equally as determined to ignore him. As he tucked his phone away again, guilt pricked his conscience. He had told his brother, or implied, that he would at least try to be open to communication between them, perhaps reconcile someday. That couldn’t exactly happen if they didn’t speak.
Yeah, he’d call Damien later. After paperwork. Phone calls. Breakfast. Scrubbing his toilet.
In his office, he proceeded to tackle some of the tasks awaiting his attention. There were more shifters on the way to Sanctuary, being sent by Grant. They needed more beds in their empty rooms, so he set about ordering those. Next was a report Grant had e-mailed him about rogue vampire activity, which had decreased with Carter’s death but was still problematic. The report contained surveillance on where a few known pockets of them were hiding, and Nick made notes, planning for the team to make several strikes in the coming days to eradicate them.
Then there was another report on human hunters, who killed innocent vampires right along with the bad ones. The bastards were vigilantes. Radical, dangerous. They caused more problems than they solved, leaving vampire families torn apart. Activity involving hunters had increased by leaps and bounds, and Grant wanted to know the source.
So did Nick.
Reports on the hunters’ various locations weren’t as numerous, which was frustrating. The fuckers were good at lying low.
His stomach rumbled and he closed his laptop, heading for the dining room. A few of his team were already there, loading their plates with pancakes, bacon, eggs, and sausage. The cooks here rivaled the best ones at any great diner, and this pack of hungry wolves rarely missed a meal if they could help it.
Spotting Hammer, he joined him at a table. The big man eyed him as he took a seat, grabbed a plate, and began loading it with food.
“You look tired,” Hammer observed. “Not much sleep?”
“None to write home about.” He didn’t get into why. His friend didn’t ask.
“So, what about that meeting Tarron held with all those fancy-ass vampires? Think anything good will come of it?”
Nick shrugged and slathered butter on his pancakes. “Hard to say. The name of the game is to have something everyone else wants. With that bunch, it’s the power of sheer numbers. Everyone wants that, and they can give a measure of safety to each other. Maybe it’ll work.”
“If one coven is under attack, the rest will come to help? Right.” He snorted, clearly skeptical.
“That was the agreement they made. We made it, too. Though I hope we never need to test their honor.”
“Yeah.”
“Any word on Tom?” Nick asked. Their inability to reach the former mechanic was becoming a cause for concern, and his friend’s next words did nothing to alleviate it.
“None. In fact, I was getting ready to tell you that Rowan and Aric made a trip to his apartment in Cody, and he didn’t answer the door. They made the decision to gain entry, and found that his furniture and other household items are still there, but a lot of his clothes are gone.”
“He could’ve taken a trip.”
“Maybe,” Hammer said. But his frown indicated he didn’t necessarily agree.
The topic was dropped when Jax and Micah joined them and sat, muttering their good mornings, and then diving into the food. They talked for a while about mates, babies, and Sanctuary, until Micah looked at Hammer and changed the subject.
