Taken by the Vampire King (Vampire Warrior Kings 3)

Looking into her eyes, Henrik whispered, “Just relax.” His voice was almost mesmerizing, and a calming ease blanketed her body. The tension drained from her shoulders and her heartbeat decelerated.

He cradled her hand and forearm in his big hands and gently pulled her arm toward him as he knelt closer to her thigh.

Henrik’s hands were warm, yet cooler than Jakob’s, and big, though thinner than his brother’s, too. The comparison came out of nowhere and made her acutely aware that two men—two male vampires—had their hands on her bare skin.

He struck, his fangs sinking deep into her radial artery, opening it up, and letting her blood flow.

It was just as before—a flash of pain erased by the first caressing sucks of his mouth against her flesh. Kaira flinched and inhaled a sharp breath. Her eyes flew toward Jakob, who was studying her with unabashed interest. The heat of a blush bloomed over her cheeks. His nostrils flared. Her heart kicked up in her chest again. The air in the room heated by ten degrees, at least. His brow furrowed and he looked away, staring at her upturned wrist like he suddenly found it fascinating.

Henrik held her arm tighter and fed from her more urgently, his mouth pressing harder against her skin, his sucking draws coming faster. Appreciative grunts and half whimpers spilled from him, giving voice to his pleasure and satisfaction in her blood. He leaned some of his weight against her thigh, and the heat rolling off him threatened to sear her.

She unleashed a shuddering breath, and he moaned.

Breathe, breathe, just breathe, she chanted to herself. Because it was getting harder to do so.

Once again, her body was responding to his feeding—to his mouth, his tongue, his hands. His need was so great it nearly coalesced into a physical presence in the room. And, God, she was so hot and wet for him she could barely sit still.

Kaira wanted Henrik. His big body climbing up hers, his weight holding her down, him claiming her in every way he could.

The high-pitched whimper escaped her unbidden.

Henrik’s drinking eased up.

She went to stroke his hair, to encourage and reassure him, and forgot Jakob held her other wrist.

His gaze cut to hers.

She tried tugging her hand out of his grasp.

Cocking an eyebrow, he released her. Her hand fell on the silkiness of Henrik’s hair just as Jakob knelt closer and pressed his fingers against the pulse in her throat. The heat of his big hand covered her skin from her throat to just above her breast.

Henrik growled and twisted without breaking contact to track the movement, his eyes slits of brilliant pale light.

“Shh,” she managed, petting his hair. His gaze shifted to her for a long moment and, apparently satisfied with what he saw, he returned all his attention to what was happening where his mouth met her arm.

Her arousal spiked. Everywhere she looked she saw big, muscled male bodies. Each inhalation of breath drew their tantalizing scents into her lungs. And the longer she stroked Henrik’s hair, the more passionately he threw himself into the feeding.

Each suck tugged at her nipples and pulled at her clit. She forced herself to sit still, to resist the growing need to clench her thighs or shift her hips or throw her head back on a long cry. Hand trembling now, she splayed her fingers through the side of his white hair once, twice, then tucked it behind his ear.

Which gave her a ready view of his red lips clamped to her wrist.

Her mouth fell open and she licked her tongue over her bottom lip. She was completely losing control of her body, her needs, her wants. Embarrassment heating her face, she chanced a glance at Jakob.

His expression absolutely dripped with arousal—mouth opened, flashing eyes hooded, fangs stretched low.

For just an instant, she imagined leaning in and kissing him. The idea of kissing one vampire while the other fed from her, both of them holding her down, liquefied her insides and destroyed her effort to sit still. She squeezed her thighs together, offering the tiniest, tormenting relief to her immense need for friction.

She met Jakob’s eyes. And knew it wouldn’t be right.

Beautiful as he was, he wasn’t the one her lips yearned to taste.

Henrik was. He might not have possessed his brother’s physical perfection, but she wanted him. Simple as that. Impossible though it seemed, some sort of bond had formed between them in the short time since they’d met. Maybe it was the understanding their shared illnesses created. Or the fact that the aurora had captured both of their fascinations. Or that he’d saved her life, and now she was saving his. Tingling erupted on her left hand again and she jerked. He drank deeper, held tighter, and wrapped himself around her calf and thigh more completely.

Something hard and long pressed urgently into her shin.