Lover Enshrined (Black Dagger Brotherhood 6)

An odd expression hit his face. "If you'd like to. Someone... someone once told me I'm too rough with it."

Bella, she thought. Bella had told him that.

She wasn't sure how she knew it, but she was dead certain -

Oh, who was she fooling? He had an ache in his voice. That was how she knew. The tone was the verbal equivalent to what was in his eyes when he sat across the dining room table from the female.

And although it seemed petty, Cormia wanted to brush his locks in order to replace Bella with herself. She wanted to imprint a memory of herself over the one he had of the other female.

The possessiveness was a problem, but she couldn't change the way she felt.

The Primale handed her a brush, and though she expected him to sit on the edge of the deep bath, he went out to the chaise by the bed and sat down. As he put his palms atop his knees, he bent his head and waited for her.

As she approached him, she thought of the hundreds of times she had brushed the hair of her sisters in the bath. In this moment, though, the thing in her hand with all the bristles, was a tool she wasn't sure how to use.

"Tell me if I hurt you," she said.

"You won't." He reached over and picked up a remote unit. When he hit a button, that music he always played, the opera, swelled in the room.

"How lovely," she said, letting the sounds of the male tenor seep into her. "What is the language?"

"Italian. It's Puccini. A love song. This is about a man, a poet, who meets a woman whose eyes steal the only wealth he has... One look into her eyes and his dreams and visions and castles in the air are stolen by her and replaced by hope. He's telling her who he is now... and will ask who she is at the end of the solo."

"What is the song called?"

" 'Che Gelida Manina.' "

"You play it often, do you not?"

"It is my favorite among all solos. Zsadist..."

"Zsadist what?"

"Nothing." He shook his head. "Nothing..."

As the tenor's voice soared, she fanned his locks out across his shoulders and started at the ends, taking the brush to the waves in careful, gentle sweeps. The rasping noise from the bristles joined the opera, and the Primale must have been comforted by both, because his rib cage expanded as he drew in a long, slow breath.

Even when all the tangles were gone, she kept on going, continuing to smooth the wake of the brush with her free hand. As his hair dried, the colors came out and its thickness returned, the waves re-forming after each pass, the mane she knew as his emerging.

She couldn't keep this up forever. And what a pity. "I believe I am finished."

"You haven't done the front."

Actually, she mostly had. "All right."

She walked around to stand before him, and there was no ignoring the way he opened his thighs wide, as if he wanted her to come between them.

Cormia stepped into the space he made for her with his legs. His eyes were closed, his golden lashes down on his high cheekbones, his lips slightly open. His head lifted to her with the same kind of invitation offered by his mouth and his knees.

She took it.

Sweeping the brush back through his hair, she followed the loose center part that had formed. With each pull, his neck muscles corded to keep his head in place.

Cormia's fangs sprang out of the roof of her mouth.

The instant they did his eyes flashed open. Brilliant yellow met her stare.

"You're hungry," he said in a strangely guttural tone.

She let her hand with the brush fall to her side. Her voice gone, she simply nodded. In the Sanctuary, the Chosen didn't need to feed. Here on this side, however, her body demanded blood. Which was why she'd been struggling with lethargy.

"Why didn't you tell me before now?" His head tilted to the side. "Although if it's because you don't want me, that's okay. We can find someone else for you to use"

"Why... why wouldn't I want you?"

He tapped the artificial leg. "I am not whole."

True, she thought sadly. He was not whole, although it had nothing to do with him missing part of a limb.

"I didn't want to impose," she said. "That is the only why of it. You are comely to me with or without your lower leg."

Surprise flickered over his features, and then an odd pumping sound came out of him... a purr. "It's no imposition. If you want to take my vein, I'll give it you."

She stood motionless, held still by the look in his eyes and the way the features of his face changed as something came into his expression that she'd never seen on anyone's face before.

She wanted him, she thought. Badly.

"Kneel," he said in a dark voice.

As Cormia sank down onto her knees, the brush fell out of her hand. Without a word, the Primale leaned into her, his huge arms going around her. He didn't draw her to him. He undid her hair, all of it, the chignon and then the braid.

He growled as he fanned her hair out around her shoulders, and she became aware that his body was trembling. Without warning, he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into his throat.

"Take from me," he demanded.

Cormia let out a hiss that sounded like a cobra, and before she knew what she was doing, she nailed her fangs into his jugular. As she struck, he barked out a curse and his body jumped.

Holy mother of Words... His blood was a fire, first in her mouth then down in her gut, an all-powerful wave that filled her out from the inside, giving her a strength she'd never known before.

"Harder," he bit out. "Suck me..."

She ran her arms under his and sank her nails into his back and took great pulls from his vein. She grew dizzy -  no, wait, he was pushing her backward, taking her down onto the floor. She didn't care what he did to her or where they ended up, because his taste was all-consuming as she consumed him. All she knew was the fountain of his life at her lips and down her throat and in her belly, and that was all she needed to know.

Robes... her robes were being pushed up to her hips. Thighs... hers parting, this time hers parting by his hands...

Yes.

Phury's brain was up on a shelf somewhere, way out of the reach of his body, way out of sight. He was all instinct with his female's feeding, his c**k on the verge of coming, his sole focus on getting inside of her before it did.

Everything about her, about him, was suddenly different. And urgent.

He needed himself in her in as many ways as possible, and not just the temporary kind of in that sex provided. He needed to leave himself behind, mark her up good, get his blood and his come in her, and then repeat the process again tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. He had to be all over her so that every f**king ass**le on the planet knew that if they got near her they were going to tangle with him until they spit their teeth out and needed splints for their arms and legs.

Mine.

Phury yanked the robing out of the way of her sex and -  Oh, yeah, there it was. He could feel the heat come up and -

"Fuck," he groaned. She was wet, welling up, overflowing.

If there had been any way to keep her at his vein while he went down on her, he would have shifted around in a heartbeat. The best he could do was whip his hand up and shove it into his mouth and suck...

Phury shuddered at the taste, licking and drawing at his fingers as his hips pushed forward and the head of his c**k nudged at the entrance of her core.

Just as he pressed in and felt her flesh give way to his... that goddamn, motherfucking Primale medallion went off on the bureau right next to them. Loud as a fire alarm.

Ignore it, ignore it, ignore -

Cormia's mouth broke its seal on his throat, and her eyes, wide, fuzzy with bloodlust and sex, lifted to the sound of the rattling. "What is that?"

"Nothing."

The thing shook even harder, as if it were protesting. Either that or celebrating the fact that it had ruined the moment.

Maybe it was in with the wizard.

Ya welcome, the wizard sang out.

Phury rolled off Cormia, covering her up as he did. With a nasty, vicious stream of curses, he pushed himself back until he was leaning against his bed and cradling his head in his hands.

Both of them panted while that slug of gold banged around the brush set.

The sound of the thing reminded him that there was no privacy between him and Cormia. The mantle of tradition and circumstance was all around them, and anything they did had huge repercussions that were greater than just feeding and sex between a male and a female.

Cormia got to her feet as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. "Thank you for the gift of your vein."