Blood Thorn

by A. S. Green

  He curled his hand, dragging the backs of his knuckles down to the top of her mound.

  She pulled her knees further apart, and his hand went lower, teasing her clit, stroking her arousal, prepping her until her flesh was swollen and wanting.

  Then he shifted, rolled, and stretched out on top of her again. Ainsley pulled her knees up, and he fell into the cradle of her hips.

  God, they were doing this. His cock pushed at her opening, finding her hot and wet. His hips thrust forward and were met by resistance.

  She whimpered, and he stilled.

  He thrust forward again, hitting a barrier. He froze. No. She couldn’t be. Could she?

  “Do it,” she demanded, her body practically vibrating. She dug her heels into his ass, urging him forward. “I want all of you.”

  He tried again, but it was impossible. He was too thick, her channel too narrow.

  She whimpered and clawed at his shoulders. She turned her head, exposing her neck to him.

  Alex’s lips curled back, his teeth sharpening. “You’re going to have to draw your knees up higher. Do that, gorgeous. Then exhale for me.”

  She did as he said, and he pushed forward as she slowly released her breath.

  He gained an inch. “Again.”

  Her eyes were closed, and her face was strained with concentration. She inhaled, her breasts pushing against his chest, then she slowly let it out again.

  Alex made a little more progress, then rocked his hips back in retreat before sliding in again. “Christ, I feel you all over my body.”

  His chest heaved and his ab muscles clenched as he looked down on her, the perfect picture of feminine ecstasy. A fine sheen of sweat covered her breasts. Her head was arched back against the pillow, her teeth clenched and jaw tight, her glorious mane of auburn curls spread across his pillow, just as he’d imagined.

  He watched her through his own lowered lids, lingering on their joining, her swelling flesh and the glistening slide of his cock, utterly enthralled.

  He pushed in again, a little farther, grunting with exertion. Her tight, wet channel was a merciless vise on his cock. The pretty blue vein in her neck thickened and throbbed with tension, teasing him, taunting him as much as every other part of her body. He wet his lips and imagined the taste of her blood on his tongue, the hot rush down his throat.

  But he doubled down on the ramshackle remains of his self-restraint. He couldn’t take that last step and mark her. Not yet. Not if she’d never gone even this far before.

  It was too much again. He refused to satisfy his own passion at the risk of overwhelming his queen.

  Damn. It would be his ruin not to do what he so desperately wanted to do right then. To sink his teeth into that tender flesh, to drink from his queen’s vein…Ainsley’s vein…

  But he wouldn’t rush this. For her sake. God dammit. There would be other days. Maybe even tomorrow.

  With a groan, he pushed up on one hand, putting distance between his teeth and her neck. Her body was lush. Her scent, heady. His cock, shiny and wet with her arousal.

  “Look at us,” he demanded, and Ainsley opened her eyes. She met his, then lowered her gaze to the glistening point of their connection. She gasped at the erotic sight as he tunneled into her with each demanding thrust.

  On an inward slide, he ground his hips against her. Ainsley’s eyes rolled back, and her hips tipped up. Her internal muscles bunched around him, squeezing, squeezing—fucking strangling his cock—until the pulsing spasms ran up and down her channel, demanding that his body find its own release.

  Alex stifled a roar and clenched his teeth. She was so damned tight now he could no longer move, and the sounds she was making as she came for him…

  His climax swelled in his balls. It tingled up and down his spine. His body shook with restraint. And then, with an eruption of sensation, his soul exploded.

  He emptied himself of everything he had, until Ainsley’s groan of satisfaction ended on a blissful sigh.

  29

  Ainsley had never felt more amazing in her whole life. Her body was boneless, sated, stretched, and throbbing. Dreamily, she felt Alex’s lips at her neck. One kiss. Another. Then, with a defeated sigh, the kisses stopped and he rolled onto his back.

  Without opening her eyes, she felt him sit up. The mattress dipped. There was a click, and the room was suddenly flooded with light.

  Ainsley yanked the blankets up to cover herself. “What are you doing?”

  “Checking something.” He gently pulled the blankets back down and separated her knees. His brilliant green eyes went to the center of her, and he clenched his teeth.

  Ainsley’s breath caught, and the serious look on his face told her that he knew. He knew she’d been a virgin.

  “How bad did I hurt you?” he growled.

  Ainsley shook her head. Yes, his girth was insane, and he was hung like a horse…and maybe there’d been a moment when she thought he might split her in two… But everything about the experience only made her crave him more.

  “Am I bleeding?” she whispered, somewhat horrified.

  “Yes.” His voice was tense and rough. He got up and went to the bathroom, coming back with a wet hand towel.

  “Alex.”

  “You should have told me you were a virgin.” His reprimanding tone was stern, but his touch was whisper soft as he wiped away the evidence. Her tender flesh quivered, every nerve ending a live wire.

  What was she supposed to say? That her virginity had been the last thing on her mind? That she hadn’t wanted him to be careful? That she’d wanted him to push her into oblivion so she could forget the rest of the world? “I did tell you.”

  His eyes flashed to hers and he was not pleased.

  “In a way,” she added quickly. “I told you I’d never wanted anyone—no one—not until you.”

  “If you’d told me that was going to be your first time, I would have been more gentle.”

  “You were perfect, except for one thing.”

  He clenched his jaw. “I already hurt you. Claiming you can wait.”

  “It’ll hurt?”

  “I’m going to slice through your skin with my teeth, and last night…with everything so new… It would have been too much for you.”

  “And you get to decide that?”

  “I know the ramifications of what it means, so yes.”

  “Callum told me what it meant to be bonded.”

  “I heard him tell you how much he’s suffered without Ellen, but I don’t think he even knows the half of it. He was a shell of himself for a long time. He only started to come out of it a few years ago.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “You should be. When he says he suffered, he suffered. What I witnessed…I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

  “So that’s it? That’s why you’ve never bonded anyone, why you don’t want to claim me? You’re afraid something will happen to me, and you don’t want to suffer?”

  “No. If something happened to you, I wouldn’t last the week. I would follow right behind. It’s you, I worry about.”

  “Well, don’t.”

  “I will protect you, or die trying. This time, I will be the more likely one to perish, so are you sure you want me to make you my bloodwife, at the risk of being put through the agony I witnessed Callum suffer?”

  “I would suffer either way, regardless whether you bond me. You were my first, Alex. And I want to be yours, too. In that way.”

  “Then you will be. I promise. But I’ve asked a lot of you already. Too much probably for someone who—less than a week ago—didn’t know this world existed. I want you to have some normalcy. It’s important.”

  “The catchfly flowers are blooming tomorrow.”

  “What?”

  “Professor Patel’s project. I agreed to help him, and he thinks the first bloom will be tomorrow.”

  “Then you’ll go help him.”

  “But what about the BCB thing? You sounded like that wa
s serious.”

  “It is serious. Deadly serious. But I will keep you safe. You can count on that.”

  Ainsley wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t get around the fact that their last queen was dead.

  Alex must have tasted her apprehension in the air. “I won’t let you down. And this time, I have back up.”

  “Back up?”

  “Ever heard of a hell hound?”

  30

  The next morning, Ainsley woke to a throbbing ache between her legs. Her head pounded, and her vision blurred. She put her hand to her forehead and groaned. “What the—?” Then she remembered.

  The music. The alcohol. The spinning lights. Knox dragging her off the dance floor. Alex’s anger as he told her she was the target of some psycho stalker. And then the most exquisite moment of her life.

  The heat. The pressure. The pounding finale, and the reassurance that Alex did want her. Maybe he hadn’t claimed her—yet—but he’d said it was only a matter of time.

  She glanced at Alex’s pillow. He was gone again. But this time she knew he wasn’t far. She could feel him in the house. She could feel him in her bones.

  She spotted her shoes on the floor where she’d abandoned them the night before. Her dress, however, was gone. She could only imagine its tragic fate.

  She got to her feet and swayed dangerously before her inner ear rectified the shock of being vertical. Then, being hungry and not wanting to parade around naked in front of her brothers, she—

  Ainsley jerked, now fully awake. When had she started to consider them as her brothers? Was it last night, when they were acting like overprotective idiots? She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. That was probably it. Well, she’d always wanted a big family.

  Resolved to this strange new life, she stumbled bleary-eyed into Alex’s closet. It was as she expected: immaculate and color-coded with each hanger precisely spaced. She grabbed one of the half dozen white shirts and put it on. It hung to her knees, and when she held her arms out straight, the width of the sleeves gave her the silhouette of a Japanese kimono.

  She rolled up the sleeves and wandered down to the kitchen, lured by the scent of maple bacon. Hopefully there’d be a lot of it; it was the only way to kill what was clearly the mother of all hangovers.

  As she rounded the bottom of the stairs on bare feet, she heard raised voices coming from the kitchen.

  “Don’t you dare make this about Ellen.” It was Callum, who was normally so polite that his agitated voice brought Ainsley to an abrupt stop in the hall.

  “Are you seriously not going to feed from a source ever again?” That was Knox, combative as always. “You’re saying you’re totally fine with reheated bagged blood for the rest of your life?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Alex said, his voice deep and menacing. Normally his tone would have scared her; instead, she was pleased to discover she’d been right. She really had felt his presence in the house, and the confirmation brought a satisfied smile to her face.

  “Unbelievable,” Knox muttered. “Our chieftain finally fucks our queen, but leaves her vein untouched.”

  “Show some respect,” Alex demanded, and Ainsley knew from experience that his expression would make the average man cower.

  “To you or to her?” Knox sneered.

  “Both,” Alex responded, his tone growing more commanding. “Remember your place.”

  “This Black Castle remnant,” Callum said, still more irritated than normal, “whoever he is, already knows Ainsley’s a queen. You’re not holding back to protect her identity anymore, you’re holding back to protect yourself.”

  “She was a virgin,” Alex said, and the kitchen fell silent.

  In the corridor, Ainsley’s face burned. Now why did he have to tell them that?

  “She’s younger than even Orla was,” Alex said, his tone softening. “I will take my time, and you will respect that decision.”

  “But if you change your mind,” Alastair said, “we still have all the decorations from your bonding ceremony with Orla. They’re in the attic.”

  Ainsley’s heart stuttered, and she had to put her hand against the paneled wall to steady herself. Bonding ceremony? With Orla?

  Alex told her he’d never bonded anyone. Callum had told her that, too. Were they all lying to her? Of course, they were. Why hadn’t she listened to her mother?

  Her eyes stung. She couldn’t begrudge Alex his past; he’d lived centuries before she’d even been born. But why couldn’t he have told her the truth?

  She’d told him she wanted to be his first.

  He promised her that she would be.

  Now she felt like such a fool.

  “When she gets up,” Rory said, and the surprise of hearing his voice temporarily shook Ainsley out of her misery. “I want to apologize.”

  “You don’t need to scare her any more than you already have, mo bhràthair,” Finn said, and Ainsley let go of the breath she was holding.

  “It takes a lot to scare her,” Knox said, “and she gets over it fast. I’d say it puts more fight in her.”

  Alex barked out a string of angry words in a language Ainsley didn’t understand. Knox responded in the same way. Then Callum jumped in.

  Ainsley pressed her hand against her stomach and inhaled. Then, as their argument crescendoed, she strode down the rest of the hallway and into the kitchen, announcing herself with an overly cheerful, “Good morning!”

  The argument broke off abruptly. To Ainsley’s left, Finn turned from the giant gas range where he was cooking bacon and eggs.

  Alastair stood quickly from the small table by the windows to her right. “There she is,” he declared brightly.

  Rory stood from the opposite side of the table, his chair scraping against the floor. Directly ahead of her, on the opposite side of the large center island, stood Knox and Callum, their bodies rigid.

  Alex was just inside the entry. He took her hand in his, pulling her close to his side, and kissed her temple.

  Ainsley let him do it, not wanting to make a scene, but the betrayal of his lie still hurt. It didn’t ease. She’d wanted to be his first bloodwife, his only bloodwife. But if he couldn’t be honest with her about this, how much more would he lie about?

  “Is there coffee?” she asked, her voice catching.

  Rory moved like a blur to the counter and poured her a cup. Then he set it on the island in front of her.

  “I’m very sorry about the other day,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything by it, and it won’t happen again.”

  Ainsley managed a small smile of acknowledgment, and she subtly pulled away from Alex. “You’re all looking good this morning.”

  “Ah,” Knox said, his blue eyes sparkling. The sides of his head were freshly shaved. “Not angry at us anymore, then? You put up a good fight last night at the club. I might not have won that wrestling match and got you off the floor if you’d been in more sensible shoes.”

  “Alex explained it all to me.” She inhaled deeply, then let it out, trying to think about anything other than her night with Alex, or their belief she had a stalker—and that she’d likely had one for years.

  Finn flipped an egg onto a plate with bacon and a piece of buttered toast then gave the plate a swift shove so it slid it all the way down the marble island to her, stopping just before hitting the edge. Callum opened the drawer in front of him and handed her a fork.

  “I’m taking Ainsley to the school tonight,” Alex said.

  “What school?” Finn asked, dishing up another plate.

  “Her school. The science lab. She has some work to do.”

  Ainsley took a sip of her coffee, and her shoulders relaxed, remembering that she was actually going to have a normal night. The first in what felt like a year, though it had only been a week. How could it have only been a week?

  Callum’s mouth pressed into a thin white line.

  Knox said, “You think that’s wise?”

  “She needs to do it,” Alex
said.

  Ainsley set her cup on the counter. “I realize you’re worried something’s going to happen to me, but the lab is my home away from home.”

  “This is your home away from home,” Alex said.

  Ainsley didn’t respond; she couldn’t even look at him. All she could think of was how her mother had counted on a future with her father. She’d thought she had a home with him. But it had all been a lie.

  Alex was either oblivious to the emotional distance growing between them, or he was choosing to ignore it. “The hell hound, Cormac MacConall has agreed to stand guard,” he announced to the others.

  All of the brothers’ heads jerked toward Alex, and Ainsley leaned back in reaction to their confused surprise.

  “You’re passing that duty off to another clan? Another race?” Knox asked, sounding incredulous if not a little indignant.

  “I’m not passing anything off, but I won’t let my ego get in the way of Ainsley’s safety,” Alex said, his aspersion on Knox clear. “I have the hearing and speed, but not the sense of smell the hell hounds boast. MacConall and I will work as a team to make sure the building is safe.”

  “We’ll go out and feed tonight,” Alastair said. “We should all be at our strongest.”

  Ainsley squirmed, conflicted over the bloody part of their nature. On the one hand, last night, the thought of Alex’s mouth at her neck had given her a warm rush of pleasure. On the other hand, the memory of Rory in that dark alcove, the girl’s vacant stare, the way she fell like a rag doll onto ground… It made her skin crawl, and she didn’t want to be part of it.

  “No one ever complains,” Knox said, apparently reading her emotions on the air. “In fact, most come back for more.”

  “Even when they don’t understand what’s happening?” Ainsley asked, her voice barely above a whisper as her thoughts continued to process. “When you lie and don’t tell people who you are… Is there consent there?”

  Finn spoke up. “So long as we have you, our minds are right. We aren’t powerless against our own urges. We can take no for an answer, Ainsley. We’re not barbarians.”

  Alex had once told her the very same thing. He drew her into his side again, and she stiffened. If he noticed, he didn’t let on.