Crimson Warrior (Onyx Assassins 3)

“Fuck, Olivia,” he groaned as another orgasm built and built inside me. “You’re fucking perfect,” he growled, breathless as he pounded into me over and over again.

Everything inside me coiled and tightened, a rise swelling in me stronger and harder than anything before it. I pressed myself closer to him, capturing his growls with my mouth as he upped his pace so fast and so hard I saw stars. Saw them burning bright, buzzing with life as I soared right by them and spiraled into freaking orbit.

“Ransom!” I moaned his name as I shattered around him. I raked my nails down his back so hard I drew blood.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled against my lips, pounding into me as he found his own release, the action sending us soaring back to the bed, him bracing his weight as he remained inside me.

I looked up at him, drawing my hands near my face, eying the few drops of his blood on my nails. Something charged snapped between us, and I couldn’t put words to my silent question. But he didn’t need the words, because he saw it in my eyes, the need to taste him on every level, and he nodded. With his consent, I instantly sucked the blood off my fingers, moaning at the taste of him, just a tease of what would happen if I actually bit him, but it was enough to send my instincts into overdrive again.

I licked the other finger, greedy with the taste of him, and he watched me with hooded eyes. Only when he hardened inside me again did I return my gaze to his, my finger popping as I slipped it from my mouth.

“Fuck, that is so hot,” he growled, thrusting into me again.

I arched off the bed, losing myself until nothing existed but him and me and the sparks blazing between us.

13

Ransom

The crowded ballroom was lit with dozens of chandeliers and filled with the classical music of what appeared to be a full orchestra. The duke and duchess had pulled out all the stops now that they were entertaining royalty, and Avianna’s promised presence tonight had brought in a host of other aristocrats, each dragging their unmated sons behind them.

I sipped at the crimson blood that filled my champagne flute and cringed as it turned my stomach yet again.

"Are you really trying to drink the synthetic shit?” Benedict asked, his expression almost comical in its disgust.

"No. This may be bagged, but it's genuine." I sniffed at the glass for the tenth time just to be sure. "Maybe I'm coming down with something. My stomach has been off since we got here."

Hawke threw the rest of his glass back and swallowed. "Tastes fine to me, though I've always favored O negative.”

"I swear that stomach of yours could handle battery acid," Benedict said with a roll of his eyes.

"Try starving for a couple of decades and see how picky you are afterward." Hawke gave his glass to a passing waiter and scanned the crowded ballroom again.

The next sip I took seemed a little more palatable with that perspective, and I surveyed the crowd, locating two of my targets. We each had a list of possible suspects to work off of, though no one on any list seemed likely to have tampered with the Hunter’s blood supply.

“Have you mated?” Benedict asked me, lifting a blond eyebrow.

Mated?

I sputtered, nearly spitting blood all over his face. “I’m sorry, what?” I managed to ask after a clumsy swallow.

“The nausea.” His brows drew close. “It’s typical of a mated male who’s fighting the bond or has yet to feed from his mate.”

Mated? My brain screamed again. “No fucking way.”

Benedict paused, which made every muscle in my body go still, hoping his lie-detector of an arm hadn’t picked up on something.

“Tell me there isn’t any new ink on your fucking arm.” I loved being on this mission with Olivia. Hell, I loved touching her, kissing her, fucking her until we were both limp with pleasure, but…mating? Was a bond like that even possible? I highly doubted it…unfortunately. Olivia would have been the perfect mate, but any bond between us would have shown up years ago, or hell, at least in the last few days with the number of times I’d had my hands on her. “Was I lying?”

“Not that I can feel,” Benedict answered, glancing down at his immaculately tailored tux.

I nodded and followed Hawke’s line of sight, and nearly had to pick my jaw up off the floor.

Olivia walked our way with Avianna at her side. Avianna wore a traditional ball gown in a pale blue silk that matched her eyes and the tiara on her head, her arms covered in the elbow-length gloves she never went without. Even her shoulders and arms were covered in a light, gossamer fabric that protected her skin from an unwanted touch. She was as regal and classic as she was expected to be and held her head high as she laughed at something Olivia said.