Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood 8)

Blay wasn't about to hop on the bed, so he went over to the chaise and sat down on the foot of it. Layla drifted toward him and sank to her knees before him.

"Sire," she said, offering her wrist.

The TV flipped on and the channels started changing as Qhuinn clicked the whacker at the screen. He settled on Spike and a replay of UFC 63 Hughes vs. Penn.

"Sire?" Layla said.

"Forgive me. " Blay leaned down, taking that slender forearm in his big palms, holding firmly but without too much pressure. "I thank you for your gift. "

He struck as gently as he could and winced as she jumped ever so slightly. He would have retracted his fangs from her to apologize, but that would have required another puncture when he resumed drawing against her vein.

As he fed, his eyes flicked to the bed. Qhuinn was all about the MMA fight on the screen, his right hand lifted and curled into a fist.

"Fuckin' A," the guy muttered. "That's what I'm talkin' 'bout!"

Blay concentrated on what he was doing and finished up quickly. As he released, he looked into Layla's lovely face. "You have been so gracious, as always. "

Her smile was radiant. "Sire. . . you are as ever my joy to serve. "

He extended his palm and helped her up, approving of her innate grace. And God, the strength she gave him was nothing short of miraculous. He could feel it powering him up even now, his head fogging out in deference to his body's focus on what he'd just given it.

What Layla had given him.

Qhuinn was still way into the fight, his fangs bared, not for Layla, but for whoever was losing. Or winning. Or whatever.

Layla's expression faded into a resignation that Blay knew waaaaay too much about.

Blay frowned. "Qhuinn. Are you going to feed?"

Qhuinn's mismatched eyes held the screen until the ref called the match; then the blue and the green irises slid to Layla. On a sensuous surge, the guy shifted over on the bed, making room for her.

"Come here, Chosen. "

The three words, backed up by that low-lidded stare, was a sucker punch to Blay--trouble was, Qhuinn wasn't throwing anything special Layla's way. That was just how he was.

Sex in every breath, every beat, every move.

Layla seemed to feel the sam

e way, because her hands fluttered around her robing, first to the sashed tie, and then to the lapels.

For some reason, Blay realized for the first time that she was fully naked under those white folds.

Qhuinn extended his hand and Layla's palm trembled as she put it against what he offered her.

"You cold?" he asked, sitting up. Underneath his tight T-shirt, his abs popped into a tight six-pack.

As she shook her head, Blay stalked into his bathroom, shut the door and turned on the shower. After stripping, he got under the spray and tried to forget all about what was happening on his bed.

Which was successful only to the point of taking Layla out of the picture.

His brain got stuck on a fantasy of him and Qhuinn stretched out together, mouths on each other's necks, fangs breaking the surface of velvet skin, bodies. . .

It was pretty common for males to get hard after feeding. Especially if they were thinking of all kinds of naked things. And the soap didn't help.

And neither did the images of what would come after the two of them penetrated throats.

Blay planted one palm on the slick marble and the other on his rigid cock.