“You want this, dhampir?” he whispers, and I nod slightly, throwing my head back when he pushes in even further. Technically, Vyce’s blood was enough to heal my wounds; I don’t actually need to delve any further into sex. But...I’m going to do it anyway.
Sorrow thrusts his hips forward and fills me completely, drawing this breathy sound from my throat as Vyce licks his palm seductively and then grabs a hold of his shaft. He watches us as Sorrow begins to move, sliding deeper and deeper inside of me with each successive movement.
Licking the blood from my lips, I stay propped up on my elbows, watching the movement of Sorrow’s body inside of mine. He feels damn good, better than all of the men I’ve been with recently. Maybe ever. He just has the right shape. And holy crap, that’s something you just can’t plan for, sexual chemistry this nice.
My gold-blonde curls slide past my shoulders when I lean back, and Sorrow follows after me, keeping our bodies locked as he puts one long-fingered hand on my hip and helps me scoot onto the bed, so he can climb on top. As soon as my mouth is near his neck, I bite him, and wait for the sweet taste of his blood to fill my mouth. The second it does, I know that he isn’t quite what he seems. There’s a different taste to him, something beyond vampire.
He’s not a pure-breed either.
Nope, there’s something else in there that he’s trying to hide. My fingers brush the tattoo—which is now on his back again—and run across what I’m almost positive is fur. Sorrow shudders and presses his neck into my mouth, letting me gorge myself on his blood. Fire and ash, that’s what he tastes like.
His thrusts pick up in speed and intensity as my fingertips probe his strange tattoo and my tongue laps at his strange blood. The faster and harder he moves, the faster and harder I suck at his neck. We become this tangled circle of life—food and sex all in one simple transaction. I tighten my grip on his back and feel something sharp cut my finger. As soon as that happens, Sorrow tears his mouth from my neck, slamming into me with these vigorous and violent movements of his hips that toss me right over the edge into another orgasm.
By the time I blink myself out of it, he’s coming inside of me with a snarl and then stumbling away.
“I gotta go, Vyce,” he says, his voice shaky and...off. Just off. I can’t explain it, but it’s distinctly not right. I’ve seen guys book it after sex before, but this has to be a record. Sorrow barely bothers to tuck his wet junk back in his pants before he’s heading out the door and slamming it behind him.
He even leaves his coat and shirt behind.
“What the...” I start, but Vyce is already taking his place, kissing the still throbbing wound on my neck and making me forget all about his friend’s strange behavior. My finger is bleeding and I can’t for the life of me understand that tattoo or the weird taste of Sorrow’s blood. But...I also can’t think with Vyce moving his bloody lips from my neck to my mouth, kissing me long and deep, this sensual swirl of tongue that almost makes this feel real, like it’s more than a one-night stand.
Ridiculous.
He’s good at playing pretend though.
We kiss, grinding together below the belt but not taking it any further, not yet. Vyce makes me so hot I can’t stand it, forces me to forget all about my last two orgasms and convinces me with his hands and his hips and his mouth that I’m starving for sex, that I haven’t been touched in years. I have a feeling he’s using a little vamp magic on me, but whatever. That’s the thing about vampires: they make you feel real damn good while they kill you. Death by bliss. Death by pleasure. It’s the only way to go.
Vyce stops kissing me, locks his red-eyed gaze on mine, and then slips slowly inside of me, inch by inch. I almost come then, but he stops, waits, looks me right in the face and then starts again, taking me to that precipice and then holding back. Most of the time, I like to be in control during sex, but holy hell, these guys know what they’re doing and why shouldn’t I be pleasured like a goddamn queen?
I relax back into the mattress, Vyce’s elbows on either side of me. He curls his back a little to look down at me, but he’s quite a bit taller so I get some seriously up close and personal views of his chest and nipples. Baring my teeth, I bite down on his pec, sinking my teeth into his muscle and flicking my tongue across the hardened peak of his nipple. He shivers above me, and even stops moving for a while, exhaling sharply and cursing under his breath.
Vyce gets control of himself quickly as I let go of his chest and wrap my legs around him, digging my fingertips into his colorful hair as little droplets of red slide down his skin and plop onto mine. They scald and tantalize, as pretty as rubies. Letting myself go completely, I let the natural rhythm of Vyce’s body take mine to a razor-sharp edge. I teeter and fall right over, cascading into a white-hot shock of pleasure as a third orgasm wracks my sensitive body. My poor clit feels so painfully aroused that I can’t handle it being touched anymore.
Somehow, Vyce seems to get that, sitting back up and pushing my legs up so that he’s not touching me anymore, moving with sure, confident strokes until he, too, lets out a deep, wild groan, his pupils dilated fully, dark and terrifying. He comes hard, leaning back over me with a palm on either side of my head as he finishes.
“Mm, I forgot how fun dhampirs could be,” he whispers with a small smile, and I cock my eyebrow, pushing him off and rolling away from the wet spots on the bed.
“Not dhampirs plural,” I correct, standing up and tearing my tube top back over my boobs and then over my head. I toss it into the hamper—Sorrow apparently picked up all my dirty clothes, so no way I’m letting this place get trashed again—and head for the bathroom to clean up. “Just this one,” I say with a wink and a smile, loving the way Vyce looks stretched out across the surface of my bed. I almost ask him to stay a while longer, but that could get dangerous and quick. He’s a Stiltz, and that’s too close to home for comfort. “Door’s over there.” I point in the direction that Sorrow left. “Show yourself out while I shower? I’ve got your card if I need you.”
Vyce laughs at me as I step into the bathroom and slam the door behind me.
3
The Verenim Family House is only about ten miles from my apartment and as a dhampir, I can run fast. Still, by the time I get out of the shower and get dressed, I’m already late. When I stumble into the servants’ side entrance, Atticus, the head of the crown’s human servants, is waiting for me with an annoyed look on his face.
For a human, he gets awfully cocky and bossy around vampires.
“Already sent the report from last night,” I say, not even winded by a ten-mile run. Shit, that’s like a walk in the park for me. “So, if you don’t need me, I’ll just be on my way...”
“Your report only had five photos attached,” the man says, sitting at a massive, curved desk in the corner, his MacBook open in front of him. “It’s three photos per target.”
“Yeah, three for Lenora,” I say, naming the dead vampire girl. “And one for each of her victims.” Atticus looks up me with this smug as hell expression on his face.