“I have another idea,” he muttered right before his mouth slanted over mine.
I was so stunned that I didn’t move for a few seconds. That was long enough for Ian to grab my ass and plaster my hips to his. His mouth opened, tongue seeking entry, but I wrenched my head away.
“Have you lost your mind?” I demanded, slapping him.
Ian grinned. “Reminds me of the day we met. As you recall, I didn’t mind you getting rough. Turned me on, in fact.”
Then he gripped my hair hard enough to pull off several strands, using that as leverage to latch his mouth onto my neck. I closed my fist and prepared to punch him into next week. “If Crispin’s in there, this will enrage him into appearing,” Ian whispered near my ear.
Few things were ingrained as deeply into vampires as territoriality. It was strong enough toward anyone a vampire considered to be his, but practically rabid if you threw love into the mix. Plus, I might not luck out and live the next time someone plugged my ticker with silver. A few wrong twitches and it was hello, dirt nap.
I didn’t really need proof to know that Bones was possessed, but if making out with Ian gave Bones the chance to stomp on top of the demonic bitch inside him, then I’d do it with gusto.
“Oh, yes, that feels so good,” I moaned, and instead of punching Ian, pulled him closer.
Breath tickled my neck as he laughed. “I know. I’m truly gifted.”
You’re truly narcissistic, I thought, but ground against him and raked my hands through his auburn hair, pulling it hard enough to elicit an approving growl. This wasn’t the first time I’d had to make out on command; my old day job playing bait to hunt vampires had practically required it. But it felt beyond weird to have Ian nipping and licking my skin while I let out some groans and calls for more.
And though I’d never admit it, not all of my moans were faked. Ian had put his promiscuity to effective use because the bastard was good at what he did.
“Ooh, a sex show.” It sounded like Balchezek plunked onto the floor for more comfortable viewing. “Nice. And I thought coming here would be boring.”
To better access my neck, Ian yanked my collar away from my shoulder, ripping some buttons loose in the process. Not to be outdone, I tore his shirt all the way open, biting some of the skin it revealed before slapping him across the face twice more. Hard.
“I’m glad you like it rough, because I am going to tear your ass up.”
Ian turned his face away from Bones, but I caught his lips twitching. His eyes held a definite sparkle as he yanked the remains of my shirt from me, leaving me only in my bra and jeans. A dried blood stain near the center of my chest was the leftover evidence of how close to death I’d come. Ian bent his head there, licking it.
A low growl came from our left. Chains creaked and rattled. I didn’t look in the direction, but pressed Ian’s head closer.
“That’s right, drink my blood,” I said, my voice low and throaty. “Now I’m going to taste yours.”
Power crackled through the air, growing stronger and yet also feeling ragged, like edges of broken glass trying to piece back together. I didn’t turn toward Bones, but fisted Ian’s hair and yanked his head to the side, exposing his pale, taut neck.
More rattling of chains, followed by a feminine hiss. I ignored that, too, licking my lips as if in anticipation of Ian’s blood. Then I slowly brought my head down. Angled my face so that the vampire chained to the wall would have the best view of me sinking my fangs into his sire’s neck, and then sucked in a mouthful of blood.
But when I swallowed that rich liquid, my moan really wasn’t faked. It reminded me that I hadn’t eaten in over a week, and though I might have been too distracted to think about food, my body clearly hadn’t forgotten what it craved. My control cracked and I bit into him again, tearing his flesh in my haste to swallow more of that delicious crimson liquid.
“That’s right, you nasty little vixen, bite me harder,” Ian urged. He raked his nails down my back and pulled my legs around his waist, supporting me with a firm grip on my ass.
Chains crashed together while that feminine hiss turned into a full-throated, masculine roar.
“Get your bloody hands off my wife!”
Sixteen
I JUMPED OFF Ian like he’d burned me, even the lure of more blood unable to keep me from responding to the true sound of my husband’s voice. Bones’s eyes were glowing emerald-green, the rage in them aimed at Ian, and the currents rippling off him made me nervous that the chains wouldn’t hold.
Then Bones looked at me, and that seething rage changed to something else. Pain sliced across my subconscious, so sharp and poignant that I ran those last few steps to him.
“Welcome back,” I said, touching his face, one of the few places on him that wasn’t weighted down with chains.