He continued to kiss her as he stripped off their clothes, rolling until he was on top, his mouth never lifting from hers. Her taste was as familiar as his own now, as necessary as his heartbeat. It unnerved him, the fact that he’d already bonded with her so deeply without the mark. How much stronger could these emotions get?
She wrapped her legs around his waist, and his hard cock pressed against her wet core. Need tightened around him like a vice. Mine. Make her mine. Mate.
He lifted her legs higher, until her knees were pressed against her shoulders. She didn’t hesitate, her passion as wild as his. He snared her gaze as his cock slid between the cheeks of her ass. “Let me.”
She bit her lip, her beautiful doe eyes widening, but she nodded.
“That’s my girl.”
He took his time, kissing and caressing her body, her breasts, the curve of her belly. She was arching and rocking against him, begging by the time he’d lifted his mouth from between her legs.
His fingers slid through her arousal, dragging it down to coat her ass with her natural lubrication. He was on edge, his fangs, his cock, ached for her. To be in her. Joined with her. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.
He stretched her with his fingers, growling at how tightly she clenched around him. How much tighter would she be around his cock? He slid his fingers out of her, positioning himself until the head of his cock was aligned with the tight ring of muscles that beckoned him. He needed this. Needed his mate.
“You’ve never done this before.” He wasn’t asking. “Remember those pheromones I was talking about?” With a thought his unique scent emitted through his pores, and he watched her inhale in surprise.
Her pupils dilated, the scent of her own arousal increased so quickly he grew dizzy with it. Wild. He wanted to make this good for her. So good she would never forget the day he made her his.
He looked into her shimmering eyes and pushed forward, loving the way her spine arched off the bed, the look of amazed pleasure on her face. Yes. Mate. Mine.
His jaw ground together as he forced himself to go slow, to let her get used to the new invasion. She was so damn beautiful it stole his control. Took his breath away. When she moaned, pushed more fully against him, he lost the last drop of patience he had left.
The lion roared as he claimed her, took her sweet ass the way he’d dreamt of. His head bent, fangs stinging as they extended for the marking bite. She saw him, arching her neck, a willing supplicant.
She was irresistible.
He pierced her flesh and heard her cry out. The first drop of her blood on his tongue swamped him with adrenaline. He groaned against her skin, soaking in the essence that was his mate. Margo.
He swelled inside her, pressing her into the mattress with the power of his thrusts. He was his animal. Primal. Hungry. Her blood was a drug in his veins. He could feel it changing him, linking him to her.
When she climaxed it whipped through him with the force of a hurricane. Setting off a chain reaction inside him. Arcs of lightning shot up his body, through him and into her. They cried out together.
Mate. Mine.
Margo took one last look at her lover’s sleeping form sprawled across the bed. It was just after dawn, but she knew Dugan would be there. Waiting. She opened the bookshelf door and headed down the hallway, unwilling to brave the tower stairs in the rain. Luckily, he’d moved the bureau in the night when they’d snuck into the kitchen for a two a.m. snack.
He was wrong. She wasn’t brave. She was a coward. Unsure of everything she felt, everything she was. She compartmentalized herself into so many pieces she wasn’t sure who the real Margo was. Reliable and diligent? Wild and foolish? Whatever she was, she knew it was time to go home and face her dragons.
What about him?
Thomas was a cat. He’d land on his feet. Soon enough he’d forget about her and move on to his next conquest. His next challenge. She would always remember what he gave her.
She got to the base of the stairs with her carryon and heard it. A faint echo of sound, like hammering, and then a male voice swearing. She set her bag down and went to investigate.
Beneath the staircase there was a door that had been hidden by a suit of armor. It was open, and she could see a stairway leading further down. She followed the noise to the bottom, wondering if they were doing any more remodeling. She doubted it. Suspicion sped up her heart as she tread carefully over the black earthen floor toward the dim light.
She heard swearing again and recognized the voice. Stan Ayer? She suddenly remembered the question from last night. Why was he lurking here? What was he looking for?
A hand covered her mouth before she could scream. “For a Slayer he really is rather clumsy. And his pseudonym. Ha. Maybe he was following our lead. Obvious is the new stealth, you know.”
Saint turned her around, and she could see his black eyes were sparking with a red, unnatural light. “Stanley is more like us than he is you, Margo. His line slay vampires, and are given some of the vampy powers like charisma, when he focuses, and longevity. In a few minutes he’ll be wishing they’d added some extra intelligence in for good measure.”
She pulled his hand off her mouth. “He’s trying to find out where Mac sleeps isn’t he? What are we going to do?”
Saint smiled. “You are going to go back upstairs and get on the bus before my roommate wakes up. And I am going to make the slayer wish he’d never been born.” He glanced down at her neck and his smile grew. “Nice love bite. Don’t worry, Margo. I’m sure I’ll see you again. And I won’t kill Slayer. I’m just gonna hurt him a little, and scare him a lot. It’s a demon thing.” His eyes burned red. “You should go now.”
She couldn’t help it. She ran up the stairs as though she’d seen a demon. And she had. Esther was waiting beside her bag, her smile sad but understanding. “Be safe, dear. You’re welcome back anytime. With or without Master Thomas.”