Sanibel Sizzle - Vampire Werewolf Menage

by Talyn Scott

  “So be it, I’m misting. Mind to mind if needed, otherwise miles away I’ll be as I want no part of this.”

  No part of this? “What?” she mumbled.

  “Drink,” Afanas directed. Blood slicked her lips, wet fingertips prodding her mouth and stirring hunger.

  “Blade,” she said. Vaguely remembering her man, she refused nature’s heady elixir, “want Blade, mine.” Spinning and darkening, her world was slipping away.

  Cautiously amused, Afanas joked to a nearby male, “She wants her blade, no doubt to gut me. Can’t say that I blame her,” he finished sadly. “I’d gut me, too. Traditions…,” his voice trailed before he cleared his throat. “But these traditions will save you. Heal, drink what I offer. Body’s too cool, beautiful, so warm yourself with my blood lest you die.”

  Anything to stay alive she would take. Then she could kill Ciaran. Who was Ciaran? Spinning, panting, confusion was her master. With a sharp inhale, she kept her eyes shut and tagged his flesh. Drawing her tight against his broad chest, grunting, he praised, “That’s a good girl…more...take it…Ah….” So good and so not Blade. A first taste wasn’t her true mate. It was wrong, yet she wanted more. Every drop Afanas had she needed desperately. Who was Blade?

  Whiskers tickled her temple. His throat vulnerable under her seeking lips, she nursed greedily, increasing her draws. Shivers followed – theirs. “It’s okay,” he soothed, “it’s working.” Through his erotically charged groans, he admitted that he wanted her badly. He moaned, “You feel...” Words died as his weight pushed into her, atop her. Heavy. A real man, he was a savage beast, a living bodily vessel for punishing wicked sex. The kind secreted behind lovers’ whispers that lurked in dark dungeons, dripping behind shadows – waiting for her. And she was sexually provoked as his blood filled her long past physical need to bloodlust. Flesh plumped between her thighs. I want him.

  Wet. Slick. Ready.

  He drugged me.

  Magnificent body: broad and fully male. Erect. What could you do to me? Fighting within herself, she released his vein, slowly licking her mouth. I will not look at you.

  “Much better, your color’s back, you’re ready,” his words softly eased. Gentle hands lifted her skirt. A whispered touch along her knees reached higher. Body forever spinning though going nowhere, Rebecca remained drugged even with his ancient blood inside her veins. Climbing her thighs, Beta’s fingers sought her pulsating core. “Exquisite,” his voice held delectation, “such porcelain skin, fiery curls. Not supposed to taste,” he whispered unabashedly, “but Alpha is miles away, and I can’t resist you.”

  Taste me.

  Running his finger along the lacy edge of her panties, Afanas sniffed longingly before pushing them aside. Tongue elongated by the Were, he stroked her once, swiping top to bottom. “Luxuriously decadent, just as I thought you were, beautiful.” A slow nod over her apex before he warned, “You will come.”

  An unhurried circling over her inner lips, matched by his middle finger thrust inside. Round and round they went: a lengthening tongue, raspy and unmistakably werewolf – a calloused hand too familiar with her body. Rebecca ground against him, feeling no shame impaling on his hand. Clutching the back of his head, she crushed his nose against her swollen clit – heavenly friction. She wanted everything, demanding, “MORE.”

  The wind picked up, playing darkly with her nipples. I am completely naked. Then, her mind twirled, forgetting again and feeling wonderful under the Beta’s hands. Knowing she could climax if he allowed. “Tease,” she flirted dangerously, panting with him. Hot gasps prodded her drenched sex.

  “No, savoring,” Afanas admitted, nipping the line between her thigh and womanly flesh. “I might not have this again, as I don’t feel you’re celestially mine. Feeling doesn’t lessen the blow. I want you, Renee. I’ve wanted you every day during the weeks that battles and your captivity forced us together, you depending on my protection. Knowing you won’t remember this makes it all the more painful for me. Even so, you will take final pleasure now.”

  Unearthly tongue reached deeply inside, circling her inner walls, leisurely licking each ridge. He missed nothing. Pinching her swollen nerves between his thumb and forefinger, Afanas pulled back the hood, exposing more intimate flesh. Aligning his nose with her eager clit, he rubbed her rhythmically as his tongue feasted inside, matching her grinding tempo swipe for swipe. Not a drop escaped when she gushed sweetly.

  And with her climax, her walls fisted. Strangling his tongue, causing more groans, reaching them both in a way they wouldn’t forget, ever. He branded her.

  Panting all around, a few males lingering, some wandering away, she felt emotions slide over her. Some males sad, some lusty, some content as they too sated themselves. Her eyes remained closed, because she told herself that this wasn’t happening.

  And Afanas was not finished.

  Head burrowing in, fingers joined his tongue, stretching her to the point of pain, but not. The roughly crisp whiskers digging her pink flesh hurried until she splintered. Afanas pulling completely from her, she exploded. Frightened though thoroughly replete, Rebecca flowed once again. Arousal streamed her swollen rosy lips and her inner thighs, before finally reaching the crevice of her virgin ass.

  Perfuming the air with delicately floral musk, her body relaxed. She heard Afanas say, “No one feels the mating call, claims her by scent, yet everyone wants her, including me. Gather her clothes and we’ll bathe her for the Alpha,” he commanded another male. “It’s the only way. Otherwise, she’s a wasted soul slaughtered by his foolish pride. Place sentinels in her corridor, don’t give any member of Ciaran’s clan a bleeding inch near her.”

  “Why am I summoned out here?” Principia hugged her elbows; blood-red nails tipped her knotted fingers.

  Hatred painted the scene, ugly and putrid. When he vowed Renee’s life for Mike’s death, he should have done so without his aunt. Hindsight’s a bitch; he mused, much like Aunt Principia. “A rebuttal against the blood oath, the males threatened to overturn our clan and called rights to mate challenge presented with my captive.” Although I would have anyway.

  “Which captive?” she asked bored. Glancing at the headstones, a moment lost before turning back to him.

  “You’re serious?”

  “What?” Palms up, red daggers pointed skyward.

  “What have I become that you think I have more than one female captive?"

  “The same thing you were when you took one.” She barked with laughter, holding her scrawny middle.

  “I carry this throne for my father’s memory, bearing every stain darkening our legacy. I came to improve this monarchy.”

  “Then you will die as your father did.” Humor vanished, allowing her snarl. “He lost everything because he couldn’t mind his business.”

  “Habalines killed my family and precious mate because my father tried to protect our females – his duty to his pack. Don’t you remember anything? You were there. Females, even mixed-bloods, were stolen left and right and held in breeding camps to regenerate a dying species. Habalines don’t need God-given mates, just immortal descent. We do! So I’m to ignore the diminishment of our very race you say?” Eyes flared the Alpha beast. “I have never struck a female in anger, but still, I strongly suggest you back up.” A cool blade shaped his words, sharp and threatening.

  “Anger feeds me.” She stood her ground, testing him. “Was that an order?”

  “Did you think it one? How do you take me now, in a pleasant mood perchance?” A tree thick as his body fell scant feet from her, slamming the ground with savagery his beast channeled. Ciaran crossed his arms and waited.

  She blinked nervously, stepping a few feet from him. “You wouldn’t kill your mother’s sister.”

  “Your petition I accepted, but nothing more. You’ve fooled yourself into thinking you’re an equal since then. Let me clarify your pos
ition. A passive threat, a flighty feminine order spewing from your aged lips, or a pretense your mind fabricates convincing itself that you wield power over me will meet the same end: my wrath. I tire of defending you. Now my life will change to save another from death.”

  Expelling a calming breath, he ran large fingers through blue-black hair. Muscles bunched his biceps, contracting and releasing the tribal ink littering his skin. He continued, sharply defined, “But your life will change as compensate. I’ll continue to provide for you, but you will reside elsewhere.”

  “Away from the pack we just rebuilt?”

  He shook his head, piercings glinting in the moonlight. “For such an ancient, you’re a youngling without youthful spirit but full of ignorance. YOU REBUILT NOTHING!” Flashing the wolf, Ciaran’s seams threatened, tightening his too-tight jeans. “You care nothing for others, how they hurt or how you destroy.”

  “You lecture yourself, nephew,” she whispered smugly. “You are no different, just male.”

  Rocks moved, threatening to take aim and pummel his aunt with the Alpha’s ire. Tamp yourself, beast, he ordered. “You’re things have been packed,” he addressed Principia curtly, wondering if she knew how close she was to deadly claws unsheathed. He doubted it.

  Shocked gasps hit his ears. If she started her bellowing, he’d snap. She asked aghast, “You’re really removing me from your protection?”

  “I’ve made detailed arrangements with the Norwegian pack. As I said, my financial blessings still remain; however, you’re under their Alpha’s protection.” Thankful the Norwegian Alpha could be bribed; he continued, “It’s a done deal as the Americans say. I’ve secured you a dwelling. Nothing remotely humble about it, you’ll be well pleased.”

  Before this meeting, he’d called to his newly appointed staff, well settled now in less than a day. Mentally directing them to his bidding, he wanted Principia gone from sight – every trace of her. A hideous reminder she was.

  Aide memoire to what he’d become.

  “Forgive me if I don’t kiss you goodbye,” she said indignantly, yet tried to soften him by wiping a fake tear from her lashes.

  “I understand.”

  She misted away.

  Ciaran’s relief from her absence didn’t last. His black leather boots crushed the grass, giving under his nearly three hundred-pound weight. Leading back where he didn’t want to go, he faced his Da, his Ma, all siblings, and his unclaimed mate: Helene. Rotting in their graves for many lifetimes, yet centuries didn’t erase memories. I watched you die. His Da fought for what was right and tried in vain to protect the females for naught. A new day, a different century, yet he stepped into the middle of the same bloody battle – a series of them. Winning them all, but nothing changed, only worsened.

  For every female or bride Habaline Shapeshifters stole from werewolves and species vampires, Ciaran felt a remarkable shift in power slip away from the Weres as rogue Habalines bred anew.

  6

  Everglades FL

  “Where’s my sister?” Bren Walker spun on Steve Palazzo. Head lowered, eyes flipped up. “You’re dead,” he whispered, stepping closer. A predator after his intended, he added, “I’ll kill you slowly, skinning you piece by piece. Your brother is first; he knew you were unfit to exist. Maestru or not, I’ll feed his parts to Captiva’s gators. They’re always starving, none too picky.” Still creeping closer, barely audible, he added, “I’ll make you watch.”

  Jayce slid his phone back in his pocket, circling the two, waiting to intervene, but not wanting to. Steve was the proverbial dead man walking. “Bren,” Jayce started and stopped, Bren’s warning growl slid over the Everglades. Smooth as whiskey over broken ice and powerful enough to burn everything it touched. He wanted the kill, and Jayce couldn’t blame him in the least, since he wanted the very same thing. He tried again, thinking Bren wasn’t stupid enough to argue with the Alpha in front of pack members, but then again, he’d never had his sister abducted. “Steve is on the endangered list, no doubt,” he reasoned, “but he needs to keep breathing until we find Rebecca. Remember that. He drank from her; he tracks her.” Plus the fact that Tatum and Renee pleaded for the asshole’s life.

  Jayce wasn’t heartless. Well… Tatum’s persuasion tactics could rival the military. Regardless, he saw his mate’s point. Steve was no angel, yet he wasn’t quite guilty. The ghost of Renee’s fiancé possessed Steve. And Steve tried to kill Renee to rid his body of his eternal hitchhiker. In delusional hopes, Steve thought the spirit would leave him and chase after hers.

  Jayce had witnessed possessed creatures and humans over the years. Still, it was a rarity. Sometimes murdered humans fought back and jumped in their attacker’s body, never levitating to the light. As an Alpha, Jayce could sympathize with that type of justification. Why not make a boatload of trouble for the being that took your earthly life away? Problem was, most desperate souls didn’t realize they were better off forgetting and moving on. And as a result of all Steve’s chaos, he fooled Ciaran into thinking he captured Renee Shirley and threw Rebecca Walker under the uncrowned Alpha’s bus.

  So things were going pretty shitty right now.

  Bren had Steve up against a tree. After hearing Steve’s collarbone snap, Jayce pulled his co-mate off. “Enough, we have to track her, not waste time.”

  “Go home, Jayce.” Bren misted to the swamp’s edge, sniffing everything, coming up with nothing.

  “What are you talking about, my man? You know we aren’t leaving without her.” Jayce misted next to him, baring his canines at an enormous and too curious rattler that Bren didn’t notice. No, the venom couldn’t kill an immortal, but the weeks of headaches were a bitch. Jayce watched the snake slither under a rock and pulled his attention back to Bren. “You’re not watching your back, Bren.”

  “I heard the reptile.” Bren studied the horizon, and then looked over his shoulder. “Go to Tatum; guard her.”

  “She’s protected. Plans changed. Your sister is my responsibility as well as yours. This was a personal message to me. Steve filled me in while you were tracking in Miami. It’s a blood vendetta from Jody and Mike’s clan led by none other than Ciaran. His traveling circus includes Habaline mixed bloods.” Jayce braced his feet shoulder-width apart, thinking he’d have to stop Bren from attacking Steve again. To his surprise, he didn’t. Bren stood perfectly still, a little too still. “Get to Tatum. I can’t worry about her and my sister at the same time, there’s no room in my head for that.”

  “Rock is with her.”

  “Obviously, that’s not enough if we’re dealing with Ciaran and Habaline mixed bloods.” Bren’s eyes were firestorms, blazing with knowledge of what’s to come. “All the available werewolves following Rebecca’s scent aren’t picking up a direct trail. This could be a trap.” He misted to Sanibel without another word.

  Jayce followed, instinctively knowing his destination.

  “Oh, my God,” Tatum yelped, dropping her phone on the stairs, “a little warning next time.”

  Bren disregarded the phone, picked her up, and carried her to the lanai that centered the manse. Putting her down, he pulled her back to his chest. His large tanned hand cupped the underside of her jaw, persuading her to evaluate her surroundings. “Look around, Tatum.” His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. “Learn to survey your perimeters, use our blood bond to pull from your Were side. Somewhere inside you, find the mist. Maybe it’s a color, sometimes a gray cloud, surface it, and bring it to your line of vision.”

  “Bren, ease up.” Jayce reached for her, pulling Bren’s hands away, rubbing the faint finger crescents on her face. “She’ll learn in time.”

  “Something we don’t have.”

  Tatum spun around, wrapping arms around Bren’s muscled neck. “You haven’t any news.”

  Grabbing her, he lifted Tatum around his waist. One arm crooked under her bottom and one crushed her
face against his shoulder. “No, love, she eludes me. First, it was you, and then Renee, now my sister.

  “All because of me,” Tatum added sadly. “It’s dominos, one after the other. Beginning with Mike and Jody’s deaths,” she said, looking under her lashes at Jayce, remembering everything he explained earlier over the phone. “Shouldn’t there be prisons for these Weres? Or is it always death?”

  “Don’t dig into things you know nothing about.”

  “How unfair is that, Jayce? You brought me into this world, your world. I can’t question anything you do?”

  “It’s your world, too. Always has been, whether I brought you in or not. Fact is, according to Steve Palazzo, Habaline Shapeshifters are coming back through vampire breeding in groves. They don’t need celestially given mates to procreate, since they can choose anyone of immortal descent – even our mixed bloods, and their shapeshifter side stays prominent with each generation. That puts our species on the edge of survival.”

  He took a deep breath. “So questioning why I took out an insane bitch that tried to murder the queen of the North American Pack is pointless. You will give birth to the next Alpha. Everyone in the immortal realms knows that and so do you. If Habalines want to take over, you become a bigger target than you already are. What a prize you’d be for their breeding program.”

  “If you’d handled things differently,” she dared, “maybe Rebecca would be here right now.”

  With an impassive smile, Jayce studied his mates. “I’ve let a lot slide lately, Tatum, but that’s enough. That includes your temper, Bren. Refocus your attitudes and we’ll all keep it together through this horrifying situation and everything else that’s bound to blow our way. We are one.”

  A length of silence stretched before Tatum voiced the impossible. “I want to help. Give me pictures of Rebecca. I’ll go through Miami with Rock and question everyone I can. We’ll work together as a family.”