“Plus, I think Cage is interested in Penton’s newest wildlife—that shape-shifter.”
“Robin?” He tried to imagine the fiery little woman he’d met at the site of the fire being with the cold-as-ice Cage Reynolds, and couldn’t do it. “Talk about an odd couple. And speaking of odd”—he pointed at her pants—“what’s with the track pants? You started jogging in your spare time?”
She laughed. “Hardly. But Mirren’s going to help me learn to defend myself—not like for Omega team work but just basic skills.” She stretched out alongside him and propped on one elbow. “I’m tired of being afraid, and the only way I can get unafraid is to learn how to take care of myself. Go ahead. Tell me I’m nuts.”
He thought it was a great idea. “Do it. If I can get this back healed up again, I’ll be right there with you. We don’t need to learn how to be killers, but we do need to learn how not to be victims. When are you training?”
“No set schedule—the lieutenants are meeting first. And, um . . .” She blushed, and he enjoyed the sight. After she’d been turned awhile longer, she wouldn’t have enough human left in her for the pink to fill her cheeks. “I’m supposed to . . . you know.” She tapped a finger on one of her fangs. “The word feed sounds so . . . impersonal.”
“It’s okay. I want you to.”
She took a deep breath before reaching out to grasp his arm.
He pulled it back. “Not like that.” He rolled his head to the side, baring his neck to her. No one had ever fed from his neck; he’d thought it too intimate and he’d always been a feeder, not a familiar.
“Are you sure? I’ve never done this.”
“Aidan never fed from you this way? I mean, you were his fam a long time before he met Krys. I always figured you . . . you know.” He turned back toward her. He’d always wanted to ask her but feared getting the outraged expression she had on her face now.
“Seriously? No way. You’re my first.”
He liked that. He also liked when she maneuvered to sit astride him, giving him a hard-on that ignored his insistence that they take it slow. It only knew want. It only knew now.
She laughed and moved on him just enough to give him some delicious friction.
He groaned. “Damn, woman. Did you miss that memo about taking things slow?”
“Yep, missed it totally.” She lowered her mouth to his and kissed him, a soft brush of lips, sans fangs. She nicked him a little when she moved her mouth along his jawline, and sighed when she touched her tongue to the cut.
“You know how teenage guys don’t last long in the foreplay department?” she asked.
“I’ll have you know that I . . . ah.” She sucked his earlobe into her mouth, and he felt the scrape of a fang, then the rush of the vampire mojo.
Melissa raised her head, and Mark wished he could keep the image in his mind forever. Her hazel eyes had lost focus, her breathing had grown heavier, her lips parted. She looked like a woman who’d just been fucked within an inch of her life, and still had energy to spare. “I wasn’t talking about you; I was talking about me.”
“What do y—”
She lowered her head and bit, a sharp knife-edge of pain followed by the sensation of floating, like a cocaine buzz and an orgasm unfurling in his body simultaneously. Who the fuck needed drugs?
With every pull at his throat, another wave of pleasure washed over him, and when she reached down and began stroking him while she fed, he thought if he were to die tonight, he could die happy.
Or not so much. “Oh man, that’s harsh.”
She’d pulled away and snuggled against him. “I’d finish that off, but you really don’t want these inexperienced fangs down there. My hands are pretty talented, though.”
Which she was proving to him. “Uh-huh.”
Eloquent, but it’s all he could manage.
“Plus, I don’t think your back could handle what I’m going to do to you once you decide we don’t have to take it slow.” She gave him a hard squeeze to prove her point.
Damn back. It felt okay right now, although he was overstimulated in other areas.
Except the image of the amber bottle came back to him, and he knew he was one oxy high from ruining whatever it was they’d begun tonight.
“Wait, Mel.” She began nuzzling at his neck again. “Seriously. Wait.”
Something in his voice must have sounded different, because she rolled off him and sat up. “What’s wrong? Your back?”
If only. “Go to the dresser, open the top right-hand drawer and look under the socks.”