Taken by the Vampire King (Vampire Warrior Kings 3)

Henrik released him and shoved to his knees, breathing hard and glaring at the smug-ass expression his brother wore. Then the vampire’s face shifted, something more like awe settling onto his features as his eyes scanned over Henrik’s face.

“Welcome back, brother,” Jakob said.

The king got to his feet and hoisted the other male up with him. Even though his rational mind knew his words had been a ruse, the primal part of his brain had its hackles raised. “Thanks. Now get the fuck out.”

Jakob grinned, looking happier than he’d seen him in a long time. “You sure?”

“Out.”

He held up his hands. “All right. All right.”

They turned to find Kaira standing not far behind them, eyes wide and hands pressed over her mouth. “I thought he was going to kill you,” she said, dropping her hands and glaring at Jakob. “That was stupid.”

Henrik barked out a laugh. Laughter. Something else she brought out in him.

His brother scoffed. “Just some good-natured rough and tumble.” He threw a wink over his shoulder, then paused next to Kaira. Pressing his hands together like he was praying, he bowed his head and whispered, “Thank you.” And then he left.

The closing of the door behind him left a ringing silence. That suddenly flashed hot.

His eyes meet Kaira’s for a long moment, their whole lives hanging on a knife’s edge.

He wasn’t sure who moved first. Next thing he knew, they were all over each other. Devouring each other’s mouths. Clutching skin. Tugging clothing. She was warm and writhing and rubbing herself against him. She sucked on his tongue like she was ravenous, and the thought that she was enjoying the taste of her own blood in his mouth made him harder than he’d ever been in his life. He tugged her T-shirt over her head, only breaking their kiss long enough to let the cotton pass. The robe was like sand paper against his suddenly alive skin, so he shrugged it off, one arm at a time, until it fell free of his body.

The bare skin of his chest pressed against the bare skin of hers. Except for the satin of her bra. He made quick work of solving that problem and it joined their other discarded clothing at their feet.

She gasped, her hands splaying over his pecs. “This is gorgeous,” she whispered admiring the gold-and-black-inked heraldic lion wearing a crown and carrying a silver axe, the royal symbol of his lineage that dated back to the time of his medieval father, Eric Magnusson. Her gaze dragged over his face and she smiled. “Oh, Henrik.” Wonder reshaped her expression as she cupped his jaw in her hands. “I think it’s working.”

He wasn’t sure what she saw, so he just nodded, too choked up at the raw happiness rolling off her to chance his voice. And he knew it was true. Energy and power and vitality vibrated through him.

For the first time in years, he wasn’t hungry. Not for blood.

“Kaira, I don’t know if I can be slow about this, not this time,” he said, hope that there would be a next time burning bright within him.

Her cheeks went pink.

He pulled one of her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “What is it, kjære?”

Gaze skittering away from his, she said, “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

His stomach dropped and he took a step back. “If you’ve changed your mind—”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s not that.” She closed the distance between them, her forefinger tracing the lion’s paws. “I’m, uh, I’ve never done this before.” She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug.

Her words hit home. Victorious heat flooded through his veins. “‘This’ meaning...?” When she didn’t answer, he tilted her chin up with his fingers.

“Sex.” Pulling away from his gentle hold, she nipped at his fingers, then dropped her gaze to the length of his rigid cock standing out straight between them. The sounds of her shallow breaths and racing heart were like a siren call, beckoning him to her. But he’d give her the time she needed to get used to the sight of him. “Can I touch—”

“Ja, always.” He guided her hand to curl around his hard-on. God, but her touch was the sweetest torture. For a few slow strokes, they worked his cock together, his big hand covering her smaller one. “Kaira,” he rasped.

“It feels nice.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Ja.”

In her giggles, she squeezed him tighter. The pleasure groaned out of him.

“That’s good?” A quick study, her next strokes were tighter, harder.

He’d never last. And dammit he wanted to be inside her—her body, her heart, her life.

“Too good,” he rasped, pulling out of her grasp. Henrik scooped her up by her bottom so that she straddled the front of his hips. Holding her luscious ass, he carried her to the bed and sprawled her in the center of it. What a beautiful picture she made, flush, tousled, aroused. He unzipped her jeans and tugged them off, removing her little pink panties with them.