by Emma Dawn
I slid my tongue over his right fang, up one side and down the other as though it were another appendage I would like to get my mouth on.
He groaned as he came, his body giving the last few bucks of pleasure as he collapsed against me, pinning me to the wall. I dropped my hands to his upper back and rested my head against his.
We were silent for almost a minute as the water pounded down around us, hot and cold splatters catching the curves of my body.
“Preacher?”
“Hmm.” He slowly lifted his head, his eyes nothing short of dazed.
“You’re pretty good at that.”
A laugh erupted from him, full-bodied and so sudden, I had the feeling he didn’t do it often. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one.
The doorway opened and a head pushed in. Jet-black hair and even darker eyes panned over our entwined bodies.
“Preacher, don’t tire her out.” He grinned at me, eyeing me up. “I get her next.”
Chapter Five
From where I was pushed against the shower wall, I stared at the—I’ll admit, gorgeous, gorgeous man with his exotic looks, and long dark hair—intruder and let my gaze harden into a glare. “What the hell? I am no whore to be passed around.” I was not going to be that woman. I’d been cheated on; there was no way I was doing that to anyone else. I knew the pain it caused to have someone throw you aside for another.
The intruder’s eyes opened wide, and his eyebrows shot up. “Shit, he really didn’t tell you yet? I thought he was just kidding—”
“I was somewhat preoccupied.” Preacher started to pull away from me and I clung to him.
“Hey. You’re all I’ve got covering me, right now.”
He stepped away despite my protests, leaving me there still half-clinging to the tile wall, my body still trembling with aftershocks and a climax I’d just missed out on. With the last of my energy, I reached out and grabbed his shoulders, leaping for his back, forcing him to carry me.
He didn’t stumble but he did pause and turn to look at me. “What are you doing?”
“I really don’t need to be showing what God gave me to a man who just walked in on us while we were getting it on.”
Preacher’s eyes shuttered, hiding his emotions from me, but I caught the tail end of them. Sadness. “This is Wick. He was the one pestering us earlier.”
“Earlier, Preach! It’s been over an hour,” Wick said as he let himself all the way into the spa bathroom. Though not as tall as Preacher, he was lean, and I could see by the way he moved, the man had some serious muscle under his clothes.
I blinked over the edge of Preacher’s shoulder. “Hello, Wick. Nice to meet you. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some clothes on. So, whatever you were thinking about sharing me with Preacher is off the table. I’m not that kind of girl.”
Besides, I really needed to check on Cassie. While I trusted Preacher, probably far more than I should have for the time I’d known him, I still wanted her to see I was okay.
Wick put both hands on his hips and pursed his lips as though deep in thought. “Preach, Preach, you are making this harder on all of us. I thought we agreed to try and do this right this time.”
I frowned at him, lifting my head a little so he could get the full extent of my irritated gaze. “Making this harder on whom?”
Wick rolled his eyes, stepped back, and leaned against the wall. He stretched his legs out in front of him, so casual. I couldn’t help myself from staring. There was a strange tingle down my spine that wrapped around me and pushed me in his direction. I clung harder to Preacher’s back.
“See, she’s drawn to me, too. She’s the one,” Wick said.
“I can see that,” Preacher said, and I recalled very suddenly his ability to read my mind. Perhaps that wasn’t the great thing I’d thought it was. I swallowed hard. “I can look. That doesn’t mean I’m going to touch. I’d have to be dead not to notice him.”
Again, I’d been cheated on. I wouldn’t put Preacher through that for the world.
“This is not cheating, Allianna,” Preacher said.
“I’m not sleeping with him,” I said.
Preacher pried me off his back and handed me a thick black towel. I wrapped it around my body, tucking it under my arms. “Preacher, talk to me, please. What is wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He shook his head. “I only hoped to have you to myself a little longer. Selfish of me,” he held up a hand to Wick, “I know, but there it is. To be just a man bedding a beautiful woman without any interruptions or ulterior motives.”
“We didn’t even get that,” I pointed out.
Wick winked at me, and my heart rate shot up. Nothing I could do about that. I looked away, to Preacher again. If this was one of my books, what would my heroine do? If she was a tough chick, she wouldn’t even have let Preacher go as far as he had. But this wasn’t a scenario for a tough girl. This was my scenario, and I was the funny girl. At least, I thought I was.
“Spit it out, Preacher. I’m not getting any younger, being the hag of nearly forty that I am.” I tightened my hold on the towel and lifted my chin.
Preacher grabbed a towel for himself. “I suppose the others are waiting?”
“Yup, they want to meet her.” Wick grinned at me and blew me a kiss. “Come on out and meet the boys, Allianna.”
Preacher followed Wick out of the bathroom, leaving me standing there like a half-frozen, totally bedraggled statue. Meet the boys. Why did I get the feeling this was not just a meet and greet for some of Preacher’s friends? Wick seemed to think he was going to have some sort of shot with me.
But I...I was with Preacher. Wasn’t I?
I pressed my fingers to my closed eyes and tried to think around the hormones and smell of sex that still lingered on the air. Quietly, I spoke to myself. “If this was one of your books, there would be a simple explanation. Maybe something to do with that twat who called herself a queen when you first got here. A plot to kill her maybe.” I couldn’t help the nervous laugh that slipped from me because I knew if this wasn’t all real, I was truly slipping.
I’d gone down a rabbit hole I wasn’t sure I wanted to climb back out of. Not if Preacher was here. Madness for a man like that was totally worth it.
I toweled off my hair and slid my bottoms and top on. I was not meeting with anyone in nothing but a towel. Bad enough that Wick had interrupted us.
I went to the bathroom door and peeked out. I counted four men in the room, all of them lounging as if they owned the place.
Preacher still had only the black towel that matched mine wrapped around his lean hips as he stood by the door, propped against the wall on his one arm. Pensive, he didn’t look happy with whatever this situation was. I wanted to go to him and smooth away the worries in his brows.
Wick stood to the left of him, almost like they were guarding the door.
The other two men stood with their heads together in low conversation.
One was about as blond as one could be without having white hair. Tied back in a loose braid, the hair hung to his rather tight ass. I couldn’t see his face, but I could guess if Wick and Preacher were any indication, he’d be as beautiful and breathtaking as any man I’d ever seen.
The last one was taller than Preacher and dressed in nothing but a pair of loose-fitting, cream-colored bottoms. His chest was bare, and so smooth, he had to have been waxed. His eyes flicked up and caught me looking. Green eyes the color of a jaguar’s.
I had the urge to tuck back behind the door, but I refused to cower. I pushed the door open and stepped through.
“Preacher, are you going to tell me what’s going on here?” I lifted my chin and indicated to each of the other men with the flick of a hand. “Or am I going to have to beat it out of you?”
I meant the words as a joke, but the other men reacted as if I’d uttered a serious threat. They shifted their stances and whatever kindness or interest that had been in their eyes was gone in a flash.
/> Preacher shook his head. “She is joking, brothers. She does not have a mean bone in her body.”
“’Cept for your mean bone, eh, brother?” That was the blond. He turned and flashed brilliant baby blues the color of the summer sky at me. Wick let out a laugh, as did the blond, but it was the blond I couldn’t look away from.
I swallowed hard, an image of him over me, his skin and mouth against mine so vivid that I actually stumbled back a few feet.
“Good God, what is wrong with me?” I put a hand to my head. I mean, I had a good libido, like any hot-headed almost-forty-year-old with a new lease on life. But even for me, this was ridiculous.
Preacher let out a sigh. “There is nothing wrong with you, Allianna. Please, sit. Have something to drink, and I will explain what is happening.”
“Where the hell am I supposed to sit?” I threw the question at him. “The bed?”
He nodded. “If you like.”
“No, that’s the problem. I would like it a little too much, and I have a feeling if I did it right now, in about ten seconds I’d have four other bodies joining me. What is wrong with me?” I backed away, toward the sanctuary of the bathroom. For the first time, I was afraid. Not for my life, but because it was as though I had no control over myself. Something I was not used to in the least.
“Give me that.” Wick snatched a flask from a small side table next to the door and brought it over. He handed it to me and our fingers touched. A flash of heat shot through me. I closed my eyes, swaying where I stood. Wick stepped closer, his mouth against my ear. “Drink up, love. Drink up and come for me.”
I shivered, the double entendre of his words working a wicked magic over my body, the way my nipples hardened against the thin shirt as if begging for him right there. A drink sounded good right about then.
Shaking, I brought the flask to my mouth and tipped it back.
He planted a kiss on the hollow of my throat, shocking me in the loveliest of ways with the wet moisture of his lips and tongue. Shocking me more was the fact that I didn’t pull away first.
He stepped back. “You were right, Preacher. She’s a sweet one.”
It took all I had to keep drinking. Both because of his unexpectedly gentle kiss, and the fire in the whiskey I drank down. The heat of the drink was like a literal balm to my soul, sweet and hot like a cinnamon candy.
I lowered the flask and a slight buzz rolled through my veins immediately. “That wasn’t just whiskey, was it?”
Wick gave me a wicked grin. “Nah, it’s an upper. It will keep you awake without any negative side effects for six days. You won’t have to eat or drink either, so no worries there.”
I gasped, choking on a little of the whiskey flavor still in my mouth. “Six days?”
“Yes.” Preacher stepped forward. “That is the time limit.”
I was shaking head to foot, unable to contain the strangeness anymore, even my rather wild and accepting writer’s brain. A hand curled around me from the side and I leaned into the body. The green-eyed vampire guided me to the bed and sat me down.
“Allianna, do you need a moment?” He crouched in front of me and I had to sit on my hands to keep from reaching out to run my fingers through his hair. On the edge of auburn, it wasn’t quite red, but had flickers, here and there.
“Tell me from the beginning what is going on,” I said. “All of it. I’m not a child. I will not fall apart, but trust me when I tell you that if I have to guess, my brain will make this far worse than it probably is.”
The other three men turned to look at Preacher. He nodded. “This underground castle is home to the queen of vampires. She is ruthless and deadly, and she is the only female amongst us. Vampires work more like a hive with workers being the men, and the queen being...serviced. She is also the only one who can create a new vampire.”
I nodded for him to go on. So far so good. This was sounding like an interesting book, but I could handle it.
Preacher didn’t draw closer and I wanted nothing more than for him to do exactly that. Of the four here, I knew him the best. I snorted to myself. I suppose that wasn’t saying much.
Preacher gave me a soft smile, hearing my thoughts, no doubt.
“No mind reading with her. That’s cheating,” Wick said, giving Preacher a shove. Preacher shrugged.
“You have your gifts, I have mine.” He paused, then went on. “Every one hundred years, there is an opening for a shift in power. An offering comes about, a chance, if you will, for a new queen to take over. One hundred years ago, our creator Lillianna was removed from the throne and the current queen took over.”
I swallowed hard. “Okay.” I could guess at where they were going with this and I didn’t like it. “Tell me what that has to do with me.”
“You are one of the potential queens,” he said.
“Why me? Wait, there are others?”
Preacher nodded. “Five new potential queens are offered up every one hundred years. If they are not worthy, the current queen remains in state. You are the last of the five for this period.” He paused. “As to why you, that is more complicated. Certain family bloodlines have always been drawn to the supernatural. I would guess that is also why you write what you write.”
I could believe that. My stories had always been deep into the world of the fae, magic, and red-hot sex.
“And those other potential queens offered up, as it were?” I arched an eyebrow. “Should I guess what happened to them?”
“Dead,” Wick said. “Killed and drained of their blood.”
Preacher glared at him but I nodded. “Okay, that’s what I would have guessed.”
Another of the men, the green-eyed vampire to be exact, tucked an arm around my waist. “We knew you were to come to us, your name so like our creator’s that it was nothing short of fate.”
I glanced at him and away, careful to not be caught in his jeweled gaze. “And you are?”
“King.” He bowed his head, and again I kept my hands under my butt to keep from grabbing him.
“Subtle, that,” I murmured.
He chuckled. “Prince was already taken.”
“Sure, I’ll believe that when pigs fly.” I rolled my eyes and the four men laughed with me.
I shivered. “Okay, so queen bee needs to be overthrown so I don’t get killed? That’s about it?”
“Not quite,” Preacher said. “You must choose a first mate. The one you will twine your life with, who you will defend our hive with at your side.”
I looked from Preacher, to Wick, to King, and to the blond. “I need a name,” I said.
He flashed me a grin with perfect white teeth and fangs that seemed bigger than Preacher’s even. “Celt, lassie. You can call me Celt.”
The Irish burr in his voice literally arched my back, and I fell back to the bed as a swirling orgasm slipped up and through me. It spilled through my limbs and I let it, didn’t fight it an inch as it coursed through my skin, and shot through my clit as though he had touched me and not just used his words.
King caught me as I writhed under the pleasure of his voice, as I moaned through it, my body shaking as the edges soothed away any concern I might have had, at least for a brief few seconds.
“Celt, knock it off. We need her of sound mind so she understands the gravity of the situation,” Preacher growled.
The four of them argued as I lay against King’s warmth, reveling in the orgasm that had literally come out of nowhere. Slowly, my breathing returned to normal and I blinked up at the ceiling. Vampires were warm, their bodies soft and hot like any human. That was a new one to me, but then this was reality, not some made-up world. Who knew how many things had been wrong in books?
Licking my lips, I sat up, my body not wanting to do anything but lie back and let one of the men—hell, at this point, I didn’t even care which one—take me for a ride to ramp up that sensation curling through me. It was not to be. A hammering on the main door snapped all five of our heads to the side.
&
nbsp; “Shit. He’s here. I thought you said you stalled him!” Wick ran for the door as it was flung open, a curling of icy air whipping in ahead of the vampire in the doorway.
I rolled to my side and peered between Preacher and Celt as they stood between me and whoever had come through the door. King tugged me back against his chest, his arm over me in a decidedly protective manner.
“Who is that?” I tipped my head to him.
“That is Spartan.” King let out a sigh. “Brother number five.”
Chapter Six
Tucked against King, safe and warm, I couldn’t see past the three other men other than in glimpses. What I did see was that Spartan, brother number five, did not look as happy, or as interested in what was going on as the others.
“Why is he here if he’s in such a piss-poor mood?” I tried to lean around to get a look at him, curious.
“Because he is your fifth, and the final, of your choices, assuming you get to him.” King ran a finger through my hair, parting several strands and braiding it back from my face. I leaned into him and a sigh slid from me.
“Well, he doesn’t have to be here if he doesn’t want,” I said.
“He does, lass,” Celt looked back at me, his eyes sad. “He don’t want to be here, but he do have to be here. It is the binding placed on us that we will stand together. The call to you is too strong, even for him.”
I closed my eyes. “Spartan, go if you want. I’m more than happy to choose from your four brothers.”
There was a snarl from across the room, and I snapped my eyes open in time to see Preacher and Wick fly through the air. Celt was right behind them, shoved aside by a rather furious vampire coming straight for me.
Fear slid from me, and anger replaced it in rapid form.
A bully he was then? I’d dealt with bullies before and I was going to have none of it. I yanked myself away from King and stood on the bed with nothing but my still-damp pajamas on, as Spartan leapt to the edge. I pointed a finger at him, furious that he would hurt his brothers because of something neither he nor I, nor any of them, obviously had any control over. He pulled a sword from his side and swung it too wide.
