Tammy didn’t detect animosity as she approached. She wet her parched lips, tasting him once again to send another shiver down her back. Leaning closer into the shelter of Roark’s form, she reached for what was left of her control. “I’m so sorry.”
Manny stilled his struggles. He bowed his head. “My queen, it was my pleasure to serve you.” When he raised his eyes meeting hers, his smile appeared genuine. He glanced to Roark and offered him the same gesture of respect, nodding. “Sire.”
“Release him,” Roark demanded as he guided Tammy forward into Marcellus’s arms. Both the guards exchanged confused glances.
Marcellus cuddled her close, burying his nose into her hair. Tammy couldn’t tell if the gasps of surprises were from vampires, werewolves, or both. No one looked particular happy at the moment, including the man who held her. “I’m sorry, Tamanen. I should have insisted you stay inside.” She drank in his spicy scent and pushed closer to feel his warmth next to hers.
“Now you think of it,” Roark bit out, before he extended Manny his hand. “Thank you.”
Once again Manny bowed. “My attempt to guard our queen failed. Next time she is in need of me I will not let her down.” Beneath his shaded eyes, Tammy saw a glimmer of light. Lust. The masculine scent filled the air with the potency of a drug, attracting the temptress lying stealthily beneath her skin. The siren slinked to the surface releasing a purr that flowed across Tammy’s tongue. Marcellus tightened his hold around her and she smiled up at him. “Embrassez-moi.” Tammy wanted him to kiss her so badly she could already taste it.
Roark’s face hardened as he nailed Manny with a glare. “I will take care of her needs.”
“Of course, Sire.” Manny stepped back, but Tammy could feel his desire reaching out to her, hear the swish of his blood beating strong and virile. In fact, amongst the crowd she scented several wolves and vampires reacting to the pheromones that naturally eased from her pores to entice them. Even Martin moved closer to her.
“Donne, get her inside, now,” Roark barked the command.
As Marcellus ushered her through the throng, she heard Martin ask, “What’s going on here, son? If she is truly your mate why have you entrusted her to a vampire—the same one that has taken my son’s life?”
Roark ignored Martin’s haunting question, because at that moment his body was sabotaged by a flash of red-hot jealousy. With lightning speed it surged up his neck, consuming his face and ears. Too many lustful males were in the vicinity of his female. Even as he fought the rage building inside him, several of his clan stalked Donne and Tammy. Thankfully, they were dissuaded by the wall of vampires that closed in around the couple. But that didn’t stop them from raising their noses and scenting the air, taking in the perfume of desire that trailed Tammy. Roark’s body was rock-hard with need brought on by the aroma. His beast sprang to the surface, every muscle taut as he watched Tammy disappear into the mansion.
The vampiress who had brought him and Tammy dinner approached. “Master Donne has requested that I see to the comfort of you and your people. If you will ask them to enter the great hall, I will have refreshments served.” She didn’t look very happy with her master’s directive as she waited impatiently for Roark’s response.
“Stephen, Franc, round everyone up and follow—” Roark raised a brow in question.
“Deirdre,” the vampiress responded dryly. There was aversion in her narrowed eyes.
“Follow Deirdre into the mansion,” Roark instructed. “Martin, I will explain all when we are assembled.” The weight of world felt like it rest on his shoulders, until he heard Tammy’s silky voice filter through his mind. “Mon prince, I have need of you.” Immediately, his cock hardened to a painful throb. His beast leaped with excitement. That’s when Roark realized he was lost. There was something about Tammy that made him happy. Every minute spent with her was a new adventure, one he never wanted to give up. Yet, instead of falling into her arms this very minute, he had his pack to attend to. To make things harder, the mind connection between her and Donne had been unintentionally left open. Or was it unintentional?
Roark held his breath, tried to control the barrage of feelings that assailed him when Tammy’s raging need was released upon Donne. The vampire’s heartbeat raced. The blood in his veins seemed to call to her. He knew Donne wanted to take her blood as he satisfied her sexual desires. Sweet laughter taunted Roark, but it was the whimper Tammy released that broke the dam and filled his balls with so much blood that they pulled tight against his body.
So this was hell, the thought pushed from his mind as Manny ushered him forward. Walking only made the ache in his testicles worsen. He heard the silky words Donne whispered in Tammy’s ears as he seduced her.
“Deeper,” she responded, to send flames of desire burning across Roark’s skin.
“Well fuck,” he groaned aloud, earning another startled glance from Manny. They entered the mansion, his steps wooden, as they followed Deirdre down a spacious hallway.
Manny leaned into him, whispering, “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Fine.” But Roark was anything but fine. His body was heating with each pump of Donne’s hips between Tammy thighs. He tried to brush away the image of their limbs intertwined, their naked shapes lightly flushed with perspiration as they rocked to the ancient music of lovemaking. Try as he might, Roark’s breathing became labored, his pulse thumping out the beat of their bodies coming together, over and over again.
“Is this wise, Sire?” Manny looked around the great hall which could double as an elegant ballroom. Three sparkling chandeliers hung from the high ceiling. Priceless artifice from years long past graced the walls. A plethora of round tables draped with red tablecloths made the white marble floor and walls seem even whiter in contrast.
As the cautious group of lycanthropes looked around, Roark and his guards marched to the front of the room. His people’s anxiety of being boxed in, surrounded by their enemies, thickened the air with a bitter scent of resentment and it was directed at him.
“Please take a seat,” Roark instructed, facing their inquisitive stares. Sexy mewls and moans filled his head, making it difficult to focus on the faces of his clan and what he had to say. The last thing he relished was telling his people he shared his mate with a vampire, when what he really wanted was to be next to Donne, pleasing Tammy, feeling her willing body welcome his throbbing shaft.
Focus, he chastised. There would be plenty of time to address the painful need firming between his legs.
When everyone was seated, a handful of vampires appeared, each carrying either a tray of wine and water, or a selection of meats, vegetables, or dessert. Sweet and succulent scents wafted through the room, making Roark’s stomach growl. When was the last time I ate? The thought vanished when Tammy whimpered.
Roark felt the moment her sex tightened. Contractions rippled through her body like ocean waves, building in intensity. Her climax released and the floor felt like it moved beneath his feet. He swayed, feeling her inner muscles tightening around his cock, squeezing and driving him to the edge of madness. But then he realized that it was Donne’s thoughts being fed him. It didn’t make it any easier. Each stroke of Tammy’s body made him grind his teeth and hold his breath. He prayed he didn’t spill himself in front of the pack as Donne’s orgasm ripped down the vampire’s erection. Roark’s toes felt like they curled.
“Damn it to hell,” he grumbled, receiving more concerned looks from Manny, Stephen and Franc. Before he could gather his control, a feather-light touch stroked his bare chest. A shiver visibly shook him. Tammy’s silky laughter followed another caress.
“Great, Donne. She’s caught on to your supersensory capabilities, or did you teach her that little trick?” Roark felt a tug at his zipper. He jerked a hand down to cover himself, but his pants were undisturbed, only his mind heard the rasp of the metal against metal separating, felt the release of his erection. “Donne, control her,” Roark bit out mentally, even as his cock flinched
forward, seeking her touch.
Donne chuckled at Roark’s predicament.
Damn vampire.
Truthfully, Roark had always envied the undead’s ability to cast illusions and seduce someone’s mind as well as their body with just a thought.
“The temptress cannot be controlled.” Donne’s French accent became more pronounced. “The siren wants you—we both do. Join us, Lanier.” The seductive invitation was like a net thrown over Roark, pulling him into their temptation. He fought to keep a straight face, to relax his body, hide the fact that he was close to climaxing. It wouldn’t take much to throw him over the edge.
“Venez à moi, mon prince,” she purred.
Stephen stepped closer to his side. “Roark?” His forehead furrowed. His gaze shot from thoughtful to anxious. “They await you.” He placed a comforting hand on Roark’s shoulder. “Are you sure you are well?”
“Yes.” No. Conflicting emotions warred in Roark’s head as a tingling sensation teased his lips. He could taste Tammy’s sweetness against his tongue. His mouth watered, his fingers curling into fists fighting the urge to raise his arms reaching for the image of her sexy body that lingered behind his eyes. Tammy and Donne were fucking with his head.
“Not yet, but soon.” Her sinful promise was a whisper through his mind.
“Stop.” It was a plea, even though his mind cried, “More.” Gentle fingers answered by smoothing up his arms, as stronger ones moved lower, forcing Roark into action. “Excuse me.” His steps were swift, moving across the room. He had to get out of there before he did something he would regret. Roark’s pulse leapt, then sped as the button on his jeans released. He held his head low, avoiding the interested stares that followed him out of the room.
When he burst through the door into the kitchen, he barely had time to duck into the darkened pantry as he felt his cock spring from its cotton confines. Shock swamped him when he discovered it was his own hands wrapped around his erection. But he knew it was Donne’s hot breath he felt upon his sensitive skin.
“Donne.” Roark’s warning was stolen by the feel of Tammy’s mouth moving hungrily over his. His mind was paralyzed to stop either of them as they ruthlessly explored his body. A touch here. A bite, nibble, then kiss there. When a tongue flicked across the swollen head of his cock, Roark’s breath left his lungs in a single gush. He stumbled back into the shelves, rattling cans and spilling over boxes of food that aligned them.
“Relax. Let us pleasure you.” Tammy’s voice was a wicked spell weaving around him to hold him captivate.
The harder he fought his heightened arousal, the more excited he became. His body and mind were united working against him. The conflicting emotions were like fire and ice, so fucking hot—and he wanted more.
“Give in to my desire,” she hummed, setting him ablaze. “Mon prince, stroke yourself.” Roark knew he should resist her, but he was powerless. She controlled his hand, his fingers closing tighter around his shaft. With slow, measured pumps from the base to the tip, he thought of Tammy’s lips closing around his cock. He sucked in a ragged breath. Blood pulsed in his testicles to an almost painful beat.
His mate refused to show him mercy. Her mental caress was electrifying, igniting sparks everywhere her palms roamed. The hairs on his arms were energized with currents flashing brightly in the darken room. She nipped at his neck awakening her mark. It throbbed beneath her tongue. Without a second thought, he dropped his head to one side, allowing her more access, offering her his blood.
While Tammy stole his resistance, Donne broke him to his touch. Roark’s beast threw back his mane and roared as the vampire’s tongue moved like firebolts across his flesh. Donne teased him with long drawn out licks along his shaft, followed by lazy swirls around the sensitive head.
Instead of issuing Donne another warning, Roark firmed his grip around his shaft. He increased the friction of his hand, up and down, working his thumb over the moist slit with each pass. His world nearly came apart when Tammy said, “Marcellus, take him into your mouth.” The witchy woman had wanted this from the beginning and Roark was too far gone to deny her anything.
Strong fingers pressed into Roark’s ass. He couldn’t have resisted Donne even if he had wanted to. Strength and power lie in Donne’s touch. The urge to spear his fingers through Donne’s hair, take what he wanted—force the vampire to his knees and to accept his cock was nearly overwhelming. But force wasn’t needed. In the next second, Donne slid his hot mouth over Roark’s cock.
A shiver rattled Roark to the bone. His hips violently thrust forward. He glanced down, expecting to see his hand pumping away; instead he gazed into eyes so dark and haunting that goose bumps rose across his heated skin. The image of his flesh sliding in and out between Donne’s lips made his knees buckle.
Before Roark could catch his breath, Tammy pierced his neck, turning his world into a kaleidoscope of awareness. Colorful lights burst from behind his closed eyelids. Razor-sharp sensations ripped from his very soul shooting down his erection. It burned—it hurt so good. His release was earth-shattering as he bathed the back of Donne’s throat. Hips jerking wildly, Roark fought to draw air into his lungs, to grasp some semblance of control, but it was useless.
The pounding of his heart was all Roark heard when he slumped against the shelves. When he opened his eyes he shook his head and released a heavy sigh. The once neat pantry lay in disarray. His heart was racing. Had it all been a play of minds? He could have sworn Donne was there before him. He looked about the room, seeing no evidence of his white, milky come on the floor.
“Fuck,” he grumbled, cramming his fingers through his hair. Where was his control?
“Control is elusive, my friend.” It was the first time Donne had ever called Roark or any lycanthrope anything but an adversary. More importantly, it was the first time Roark had felt the same.
Chapter Eleven
Marcellus trembled uncontrollably as his climax surged through him. He held himself still pressed firmly between the vee of Tamanen’s thighs. His cock pulsated, jerking each time her fingernails bit into his skin. She raked his back, each stroke a path of fire that inflamed him more as her inner muscles squeezed and milked him. He had never experienced such a high, an out-of-body encounter like he had with Lanier. The need to see the wolf as he climaxed while entrenched in the illusion Marcellus had provided was too powerful. He had vanished for only a second, returning to fall into Tamanen’s arms, taking her blood and the warmth her body offered as he tumbled into ecstasy.
The moment was perfection—she was perfect.
“Exquisite,” he managed to say as the heat in his veins began to subside. He brushed his tongue over the wound, closing it before he moved to settle beside her on the bed. The sheets were cool as they caressed him. A sigh brought his attention back to Tamanen. She tossed an arm above her head, her expression one of contentment. He couldn’t help leaning forward and dragging his tongue across the tip of one of her nipples. She giggled, pulling her arm back down and threading her fingers through his hair to hold him near. He pulled the peak into his mouth and sucked.
“I don’t know what it is about you,” her eyes were dreamy staring down at him, “but you make me feel so good. I can’t ever remember feeling so cherished. Well, except for my father.” Sadness crept into the moment.
He released her, eased back bending an elbow on the bed to cup his head with a palm and rest upon it. “You miss him?”
A thin smile tugged her lips. “He was all I had.”
Marcellus smoothed his hand across her abdomen pulling her closer to him. “Your mother?”
“She didn’t want me—us,” Tamanen added quickly, “Guess she wasn’t meant for motherhood.” She closed her eyes, released a breath before opening them again. It was clear the subject was painful so he didn’t push it. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her. When they parted she asked, “When— How did you become—a vampire?”
“Too much liquor and not enough brains.” His ch
uckle lacked amusement. The night still haunted him. He had been twenty-two and such a fool. “I met a woman during a soirée at the palace.”
“Palace?”
“I was a guest of Louis, King Louis XVI.” The ruler had called a meeting of the Estates-General. Marcellus recalled his participation as one of the nobles, brought together with commoners and clergy to write a new constitution for France. They had met in Versailles and were celebrating a successful day when he met Suzette. Beautiful. Charming. And deadly. “She was bewitching, her father eager for the match. But there was something different about him—Suzette.” That was putting it lightly. The night had turned into a nightmare.
In a secluded part of the residence, Marcellus had stepped out of her arms and come face to face with a monster. Even now his heart fluttered with the thought of that moment in time. Fangs and the red glow in her eyes had sent him fleeing. “Unable to comprehend what she was, I ran. I was young and foolish.” Again he chuckled. He had run, but there was no place for him to hide. He would discover that later. Benoît had chosen him. Suzette was only a pawn in the Master’s game. “The weather had turned foul. I didn’t allow the thunderstorm to detour me as I stumbled toward my carriage and climbed aboard.” He paused, remembering his fear. It had been a turbulent time for him—for France. “I was reckless. The rain so heavy I couldn’t see but six feet ahead. Too close to the edge of a cliff, by horses lost their footing.” He looked away from her. “Their cries mingled with mine as we tumbled over the side. For them it was death. Suzette and Benoît found me just as I was inhaling my last breath. The rest, is as they say, history.”
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