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“Evie.”

“Hmm?”

“We don’t have to solve the world’s problems tonight.”

“I know. But there’s an answer there somewhere, with your venom, my blood, our child—”

“Stop talking.”

“But—”

He captured my mouth, kissing me like he had the first time during my captivity in Malta. Tender nips. A tongue touch. His lips tightly pulled over his teeth. Too much constraint.

I moved my mouth against his. “Let me feel your fangs.”

His groan vibrated against my lips, and with it came the biting scrape of teeth. He ate at my mouth, delicately, expertly, guiding my tongue around his fangs, letting me feel their sharpness without drawing blood. Every lick and taste we exchanged stoked the blaze in my belly, fanning it downward, heating and throbbing between my legs.

He rolled his hips and nudged his hardness against my clit, and soon, his soft and steady kiss morphed into urgent and bruising. I gripped his shoulders, the cords beneath my hands bunching and his strength holding me up, as his kisses strengthened.

Fueled with urgency, his lips moved faster, his jaw pressed harder, fangs dragging and scratching, and his tongue…fuck, his tongue fought and wrestled and conquered. I couldn’t match his aggressive strokes, didn’t want to. I wanted to fall apart in his arms and let his hunger devour me.

He broke the kiss. “You’ve already been sated by two men tonight. You don’t need—”

“I won’t be sated until you are.”

Perhaps it was a biological survival mechanism, like maybe my overcharged sex drive was meant to draw my protectors to my side and keep them so thoroughly satisfied they’d never leave? Whatever it was drove me to push this, to connect with him in the most primitive way.

I nibbled at his lips. “Blowing up aphids isn’t the only weird thing I’ve acquired with this pregnancy. I have this supercharged energy and my libido… Trust me when I say you can’t keep up with me.”

Oh, I’d dangled a challenge there, knowing he would exhaust himself to prove me wrong. Honestly, of my three guardians, he was the one most likely to wear me out.

He arched a disbelieving brow and slipped a hand between our bodies. Fingers trailed over my stomach, and I knew he was thinking of our child as he lingered there, tenderly caressing, his expression thoughtful. Then he continued downward, beneath the waistband of my shorts, lower, deeper. He slid a finger around my clit, through my folds, and ahhh, I gasped as he dipped inside.

I adjusted my stance, parting my legs to ease the thrust of his fingers. His mouth fused with mine, plunging us into a furious melding of tongues and wet breaths. His fangs grazed my lips, and our need collided, hot and panting, deep and defining. I’d missed this, his exotic musk and overbearing possession. God, I’d missed him.

Lowering a hand from his shoulder, I brushed my fingertips along the outline of his long, hard cock, where it strained against its sheath of tight fabric. I waited for him to pull back, to give me a sign that he wasn’t ready. But he deepened the kiss and ground his length against my hand, assuring me, encouraging me.

I wrapped my fingers around him through the cotton, stroking, reveling in the feel of his abs twitching against my arm. He groaned and jerked his hips, fighting to thrust harder in my grip. He fucked my fist urgently, dragging his hard length back and forth, limited by the strain of his pants.

He tore his mouth away and spun me toward the mirror. The reflection of his eyes captured mine as his fingers glided down my hips, sinking beneath my shorts and shoving them down my legs.

I watched him watching me in the mirror, my body singing beneath a surge of tremors and my pulse humming with his aura.

His gaze fixated on my swollen lips and lifted to my eyes. “You’re devastatingly beautiful.”

My chest hitched, and my nipples hardened beneath the suddenly itchy shirt. I shifted to remove it, but he was faster, yanking it up and over my head. Then he was on me, his chest blanketing my back, his fangs scraping my neck, and his hands moving everywhere, squeezing my breasts, tracing the scar on my chest, palming my belly, my ass, my inner thighs, his fingers seeking, sliding through my arousal, and fucking me until I lost the fight with my laboring lungs.

With his fingers still inside me, his other hand fumbled with his waistband, freeing his cock. His pants dropped to the floor as he lined himself at the apex of my legs.

He moved his mouth to my ear, studying my face in the mirror, his body trembling against me. “I haven’t had an orgasm in five months.”

The confession scraped from a lonely place deep inside him, roughening his voice and clawing my skin, like an echo from hell.