The Blood is Love (Dark Eyes 2)

As he’s gazing down at me in sorrow and fear, his warning going through my head—Run! Run Lenore!—his pupils turn bright red and then grow, wider and wider until they take over the blue of the irises and the whites of his eyes, until it’s all just a glossy, hateful red.

Then the transformation spreads.

It starts in the middle of his chest, where his heart is, a blackness that appears and starts to spread like an ink stain. It permeates his skin as it moves, changing the smooth pale texture to something rough and leathery, dark as onyx as it moves out to his shoulders, while more blackness spreads up his arm from his hands, encasing his whole body.

I’m too terrified to scream, too shocked to run. This has only happened once before, this terrible transformation that Solon has been so afraid of, and also during sex. But I never saw it happen, not really. I just saw what happened to his hands, watched as his claws emerged, felt him grow larger inside me as he kept fucking me, but everything about the beast remained a mystery.

I didn’t run then.

I’m not going to run this time.

This beast is mine as much as Solon is.

I’m not afraid.

“Solon,” I say to him in breathless awe, staring up as the darkness comes for his face and everything changes.

Everything.

If it was slow motion before, that inky spread, that oil spill that turned him from pale to tar, now it happens so fast, I can’t even focus. One moment, he’s still something I recognize, still a man, still a vampire, and the next he’s twice the size, in every single way.

I cry out, feeling his cock expand and lengthen inside me, the pain sharp at first, then I’m lost to the horror as the beast takes shape. Solon’s face is no longer his, but another creature’s entirely, something from a nightmare, something so black and dark that my eyes can’t pick up on the features, except for the now snarling and snapping long white teeth, and those red, red eyes, shining like crimson holes. His shoulders jut out like leathery plated armor, his hair turned into a hyena-like mane that goes halfway down his spine, his arms are tree trunk size, his torso this wide expanse of sinewy muscle. His knife-sized claws dig into the headboard behind me, and I hear the crack and splinter of wood as it breaks.

Oh god.

Oh god.

I don’t know what to do.

Despite it all, he’s still inside me, his hips are still grinding into mine, his black leathery skin rough and scraping against my pale tender flesh. He’s biting and snapping at the air, making these deep animalistic sounds that would make anyone’s blood run cold, make anyone feel like prey. Right now, he’s the ultimate predator and he’s not slowing a bit.

And it feels good.

It feels better than good.

It shouldn’t. I said I wasn’t scared, but that doesn’t mean I’m not in shock, and yet each pass of his giant cock inside me, and I feel like I’m on the verge of coming, filled and stretched to the brink with utter ecstasy. If Solon is in control at all—and he must be a little bit—he’s not letting himself get carried away too much. So far, he hasn’t hurt me, he just wants to fuck me like the wild animal he is.

And I want him to.

“Solon,” I say again, hoping he can understand me. His head tilts, those fathomless red eyes staring at me, and I do everything I can not to feel that cold shiver at the back of my neck. “It’s okay,” I assure him. I reach up and grab his hips, my fingers pressing into his ragged, almost pebbled skin. “It’s okay.”

I say that, even though I can’t believe this is really happening.

I’m really getting fucked by the beast.

How is this okay?

He snarls at me in response, presses his hips in deeper, to the hilt, knocking the air from my lungs.

That’s when I feel it.

Something brushing against my ass with tentative movements.

Testing me.

Oh my fucking god, what the hell is that?

Don’t tell me he has two cocks.

No, I think to myself, no, cocks don’t move like that, with control. Whatever it is is prehensile; he’s controlling it.

I glance down, watching as he continues to slam inside me. I quickly run my hands down his rough hips, down his lower back, and over his ass and then…

Oh my GOD.

I feel it. The hump of where it begins.

It’s a fucking tail.

Of course the beast has a fucking tail. What beast doesn’t?

And apparently, his tail has an appetite for fucking too, because it’s poking and prodding my ass like it wants inside me. This is no skinny, weak appendage, but something long and thick and hard, about the same girth as his regular dick, the end blunt, and who knows how long.