Mackenzie McKade

by Black Widow (lit)

  Fucking amazing. He swayed, trying to say upright.

  Tammy’s body hung listlessly from her bindings around her wrists, ankles and neck. She was unconscious again thanks to Donne’s knowledge of the pressure-sensitive artery that constricted and lowered her blood pressure until she blacked out.

  Roark brushed strands of hair out of her face. The heat wouldn’t be so hard on her next time. With each mating the contractions would subdue, until finally she was pregnant or out of heat.

  Pregnant? The thought of being a daddy, of seeing a child grow in her belly, made him smile. Gently, he outlined the curve of her jaw-line and smoothed his palm across her soft cheek. He had dreamed of the day he found his mate and began a family. The tenderness that filled his chest was dashed when he heard Donne moving from behind her. She was half wolf—half vampire. Was a child even possible?

  Anger replaced the moment. If he had found her before Grady had then there might have been a chance for them. What life laid in store for them now?

  He’d heard stories of humans who would sell their souls to lie with the undead. The vampiresses who had approached him on occasion, although sexy and beautiful, had always been a turnoff. They were walking corpses, thirsting for the blood of those who were unlucky enough to encounter them.

  But this woman—

  Roark couldn’t keep his hands from caressing up and down her slender waist. Her full breasts, rosy nipples were a beacon enticing him to taste and fondle. Damn, if she didn’t send his body into meltdown. His balls throbbed. His cock firmed beyond comfort.

  Given half the chance to fuck her again while she took his blood, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

  Yes. Lycanthropes nipped and bit their mates during mating, but never took blood. The suction of her mouth on his neck was the most sensual thing he had ever experienced. It had torn the orgasm from his cock. Talk about a pleasure/pain moment.

  Donne extracted a white handkerchief from his pants on the floor. He stood before Roark, gently patting his lips. “Would you like for me to lick your wound clean?” He didn’t smile, but Roark could see the hint of a grin that sparkled in the vampire’s dark eyes.

  “Hell no.” Roark cupped his neck, feeling the stickiness of his own blood against his fingers. Many of his people indulged in ménages, were even bisexual, especially during heat cycles when the pheromone levels soared arousing the entire pack. But if Donne even thought of nibbling on his neck—

  “Exquisite.” Donne’s voice was full of male satisfaction, which immediately raised the hairs on Roark’s neck. The vampire extended him the handkerchief. Roark snatched the linen from his hand and wiped his neck. Donne’s gaze drifted back to the woman. “Ahhh… She is a treasure indeed. I think I shall keep her.”

  “Fuck that—” Roark roared. He swayed trying to keep upright. “She’s lycanthrope.”

  “Yes. But she is immortal as well,” Donne stated as if Roark needed the reminder. If Roark had had the energy, he would’ve knocked that cocky grin right off the damn vampire’s face. He embraced Tammy possessively. The truth was he held on to her to keep from falling. His legs felt like rubber beneath him.

  “Your people will not welcome her.” Roark gazed at Tammy’s delicate features. Her bondage had added another layer of sensuality. He had never taken a woman chained by her wrists and ankles. Not to mention the collar around her neck turned him on. The scent of leather rose to caress his nose. By God, the whole thing had been heady.

  “And yours will?” Donne asked with a haughtiness that said he already knew the answer.

  No. Neither werewolf or vampire wanted their race tainted by the other. It simply wasn’t heard of.

  “They will once they realize we are mated.” It was true. The minute their bodies had come together, Roark had realized what it was about her he recognized. Her beast called to his. He’d lost blood before—lots. It was the added factor of their beasts mating that had drained him so thoroughly.

  “Mated?” Donne couldn’t hide his surprise, before a grin took its place. “Then it is so between the three of us.”

  Roark’s stomach tightened into one big knot. No way in hell. It was true that in his pack mates were often shared. But never the leader’s—never his father’s or grandfather’s and definitely not his. He took a step toward the vampire. “You sonofabitch—”

  A ripple of dizziness washed over Roark stopping him in his tracks. Whoa. This wasn’t going to happen every time he fucked his mate, was it?

  “Easy, Lanier.” Donne went to him, linked his arm around his shoulders. “I felt the connection as well.”

  “It isn’t possible.” Roark wanted to shun the vampire’s help, but he was too weak. He chose to overlook the fact that both of them were stark naked, hip to hip.

  “It is so.” Donne began to lead him toward the door, but Roark planted his feet firmly on the ground. “Let me help you to a room where you can rest.”

  Roark glanced over his shoulder. “No. I don’t want to leave her.”

  Donne glanced over his shoulder at Tammy. “I shall have her cleansed and she can join us.”

  Roark jerked away from Donne. “Us?” His arms flailed as he caught his balance. He pinned the vampire with a glare.

  “She is vampire. We must shield her from the sun. This room does not provide the safety we will need while we rest. Come.” Donne started toward the door and opened it. “We will sort everything out tomorrow evening.”

  Roark hadn’t thought of that little complication—sunlight. So, what did that mean? Would he have to wait until the evening before he could be with her once again, never seeing the light of day? What kind of a life would that be for her?

  “What about the lycanthrope part of her?” he asked before passing through the open door. Roark thought of her bound to the night and something twisted around his heart. No sunshine against her skin, filtering through her hair.

  “It is a dilemma.” Donne shook his head. “Until she is past the sexual frenzy your kind has brought upon her, we will not know what her limitations are. For now she can be bedded above the earth, but in a room void of any light.”

  “This room has no light.” Roark stated the obvious.

  Again with that grin, Donne said, “But it has no bed.”

  What the hell was the damn vampire up to? Roark’s stamina was fading fast. If he didn’t sit down soon he’d fall. He swayed. “Take me to this room.”

  “There are no manacles down there. Unless we tie her hands to the bed she will be free,” Donne stated.

  That was a chance Roark was willing to take. He didn’t want to leave his mate alone and he sure didn’t want to leave her alone with Donne.

  The vampire led the way toward a bookshelf filled with ancient writings. Just how old was Donne? He pushed and then pulled on one of the shelves and the bookcase sprang open, revealing a hidden passageway. Clever. Roark would have never thought that a whole living space was hidden behind the wall.

  Slowly, he followed Donne down the stairs, grasping onto the railing to assist him. With each step Roark’s legs grew more leaden. Did he have the strength to fight Tammy off if she woke? Would he even want to? He could do that pressure-point touch if he needed to disengage her.

  At the bottom of the stairs was a maze of hallways. Flickering candles aligned the walls. The scent of wax was oddly removed. The air felt damp and cool as Donne led him down a corridor, stopping in front of one of the closed doors. With a turn of the knob his host opened the door and stepped aside, allowing Roark entrance.

  Light flooded the room as Donne flipped the switch. Roark blinked hard, adjusting his vision. The room was large and spacious. Walls painted bleached white blended in with the white marble floor veined in pinks and reds. Classic art hung from the walls. Roark recognized one piece as a Van Gogh by the dark brown and olive colors and heavy, slashing brushstrokes creating the image of a peasant woman. Of course the signature at the bottom of the picture helped.

  “Did you know Van Gogh?�
� Roark asked as his gaze slid across the massive bed covered with a red velour comforter. When Donne jerked back the coverlet, Roark saw there were red satin sheets to match.

  “Brief encounter only,” Donne said. “I’ll leave you now and see to our mate.”

  A growl rumbled in Roark’s throat. Donne met it with a chuckle.

  Did Roark trust the vampire? Hell no. But he didn’t have much choice since he could barely stand on his own two feet. Damn. He was weak.

  As Donne headed for the door, Roark climbed in bed. The sheets were cool against his bare skin. He was tired. Still he couldn’t wait to feel Tammy next to him.

  Roark’s troubled gaze swept across the room, taking in its contents. A small, intimate table and two chairs sat in the corner of the room. Offset from it was a marble fireplace with an intricately carved mantel. The workmanship was breathtaking, giving him the sense that this single piece of wood had seen many, many years of history. Before the spotless hearth lay a large bearskin rug, as white as the walls and floor surrounding it. There was a dresser and a nightstand on each side of the bed that matched the mantel. Two additional doors were off to the right that he assumed led to a bathroom and perhaps a closet. He glanced at the pillow next to him.

  How would Tammy accept what had happened to her after the effects of her heat was gone? And how would she react when she discovered that she belonged to him and one ever-irritating vampire?

  The smile on Marcellus’s face grew as he pulled the door close. For a moment he leaned against the wall. Amazing. After years of searching, he had found his mate and something more. He couldn’t explain it, but an attraction for the lycanthrope existed. Perhaps it was an illusion. Power was heady, but the wolf’s primitive nature went beyond that—it was sexy and alluring. Marcellus couldn’t resist touching Lanier. The wolf’s reactions aroused Marcellus.

  Many of their people, both Lanier’s and Marcellus’s, were bisexual. At rare times he had indulged in ménages consisting of males and females during bloodlets—feasts or soirées.

  He chuckled, “The more the merrier.”

  Although exhilarating—the forbidden always was—he still preferred the hand of a woman, especially the one awaiting him. His mate. Try as he might there was no ignoring the facts; something lay between him and Lanier. Something Marcellus planned to investigate further.

  Besides, harassing the wolf thrilled him.

  With just a thought Marcellus dissolved in the way of his people, molecules shifted, shrunk, until nothing of his existence was left. He reappeared inside of the room where his mate still hung unconscious from her bindings. The scents of their loving hung in the air, stirring his cock. She looked more like an angel than the creature his people feared. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if after her heat ran its course she was still dangerous.

  Once more Marcellus breathed in her scent. She was his, well, his and Lanier’s. The fact he shared a mate with the lycanthrope didn’t bother him, which was strange in itself. For some odd reason he found their triangle provocative and intriguing, a chance to experience life from someone else’s eyes.

  As he moved silently across the room, a moment of regret stung him. The need to exert force upon Tamanen had bothered him, yet she had left him no choice. If he hadn’t stopped her from feeding, Lanier would have perished. Marcellus had to admit feeling envy for the wolf. There was nothing like a woman’s bite. His cock hardened with the thought. Mine, whispered through his mind. He brushed a lock of her hair from her face as his thumb caressed her lips. He couldn’t wait to feel her mouth all over his body. Blood rushed his groin, creating a sweet ache between his thighs.

  Tamanen did something no other woman had—made him long for things he never thought possible since his conversion. A home. Family. Yes. His people where his family now, but it wasn’t what he had envision in his younger years—his human years.

  The dream of children had died that stormy night his carriage lunged from the cliff and he met his Maker. Marcellus shook his head. He hadn’t thought of his loss in ages. Not that he could father children, but maybe through Lanier—

  Marcellus’s chest tightened as he caressed Tamanen’s delicate features with his gaze. No one knew the secrets that lay within his heart, not even Sasha or Deirdre. He had kept that part of him private and hidden. After his conversion, he had surrendered to a world of darkness. Each night was a test of survival which led him to where he was today—leader of a vampire clan. His word was law. No one crossed him without paying dearly.

  Marcellus laughed at his frivolity. With one hand he steadied his mate, while he unlocked her chains. “Will bindings hold you, my pet, once you discover your strength?” Or would the wolf part of her be predominant? Lycanthropes had preternatural strength, but even they could not break free of the heavy metal.

  Scooping her up into his arms, he padded toward the door. Marcellus thought of asking Sasha for assistance, but he looked down at his sleeping beauty and decided against it. It would be his pleasure to see to her needs before he shared her once again with Lanier.

  In less than thirty minutes Donne returned, Tammy cradled in his arms. A surge of jealousy burned inside Roark seeing her naked body pressed to Donne’s equally bare skin. When the vampire laid her beside Roark, she turned into him, cuddling close. With a brush of his hand he moved her hair out of her face and stared down at her.

  She was so beautiful. Angelic. Yet she was a picture of deception. The cross of lycanthrope and vampire had truly made her a formidable force. Would she overcome this after her heat cycle? He prayed so.

  With his fingertips, he traced the scars on her abdomen and chest that were almost gone. Her hair had hidden them from his sight before, but now he could see the damage Grady had inflicted upon her. Shadows existed where other injuries had been on her knees and the side of her cheek. She was healing more rapidly than a werewolf did. They could only achieve this speed of healing in the wolf form. Did that mean that the vampire part of her was more predominant? The thought sent a chill through him.

  Donne watched him curiously. A dimple touched the corner of his mouth as if he fought a smile. Gracefully, he slid in beside Tammy so she lay between them.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Roark roared, jerking into a sitting position that sent a wave of dizziness over him.

  “Take it easy, Lanier.” Donne spooned his length against Tammy’s like he’d done it a million times. “Should she awake you may need my assistance.”

  “No.” Roark was confident he could handle her. Well, somewhat confident.

  “Then let me say that I am protecting my interest.” Donne’s fingers slid over her thigh, forcing a growl from Roark.

  “She’s my mate,” Roark insisted as he brushed away the vampire’s hand.

  Donne released a drawn out yawn. “Must we argue this point again? I’m tired. Rest.” His eyelids slid closed.

  Roark turned his attention to the woman beside him. He eased back down, wrapping his arms around her to draw her closer. “Mine,” he growled. His affirmation fell on deaf ears. Donne’s chest stopped moving. He slept the sleep of the undead and wouldn’t awaken until the sun dipped in the sky.

  That didn’t stop Roark from refusing to fall asleep. Heavy eyelids and the need for rest failed him as he held her close.

  That evening as the veil of slumber began to rise, Roark woke to the thick ridge of his cock nestled between Tammy’s thighs. Moist, warm folds cradled him, while something else slid back and forth against his hardness, taking him further into heaven.

  He bathed in the sensual feel, continuing to push past the haze and become more aware of his surroundings. It was pitch-black. Donne must have risen and extinguished the light sometime during the day. He didn’t think vampires rose except at night. Roark could see perfectly. Wolves had excellent vision in the dark. But knowing the vampire walked about while he slept was a little disconcerting. The thought vanished as he looked down at the woman before him.

&nb
sp; Golden hair fanned the satin pillow next to him. Her eyelashes lay like crescent moons against her skin. Full lips enticed him to sample their nectar. Her pussy was hot and wet, as his hips thrust back and forth. Heat built against the underside of his erection with the increased friction.

  “Holy shit!” Like a bullet shot from a gun, he jerked into a sitting position, moving quickly away. It was another cock rubbing along his.

  Donne’s cock.

  Roark’s pulse sped. His embarrassment faded to anger when the fucking vampire grinned from where he lay snuggled to Tammy’s back.

  He nailed the bloodsucker with a fiery glare.

  Donne stretched the arm he wasn’t lying on. “Bonsoir.”

  “What the hell do you think you were doing?” Roark grumbled, trying to mentally shake off the fact that the vampire’s dick had touched his.