Page 18 of Claimed By Her Monsters

Chapter Eighteen

Worship You

Igasp when we step into his bedroom. A beautiful arched ceiling rises over my head, painted with clouds that impossibly drift as I watch. These ones aren’t like the storm outside. They’re white, puffy, surprisingly cheerful for a vampire’s bedroom.

A fireplace is lit in the corner. Its flames crackle with what I now understand is a greeting. I send a silent hello back. Tonight, it feels like a friend, but I have a sense it betrayed me once.

Along one wall, shelves strain under the weight of hundreds of books. There are spines in every color, crammed two deep.

Alister notices my stare. “I have a first-edition Dickinson,” he whispers in my ear. “It’s yours.”

I arch a brow. “Bribery? Seems unnecessary. Pretty sure living through this is the real prize.”

The bed is an altar to sleep. Four carved posts climb like cathedral spires, dark wood polished to a mirror sheen, each crowned with an obsidian finial.

A canopy of deep wine velvet frames two layers of curtains—heavy velvet for secrecy, sheer gauze for sin—tied back with silver-braided cords.

The mattress is ridiculous, wide enough to qualify for its own zip code, piled high with embroidered pillows.

There’s a low three-step stool, thank God.

I’d need a running start to get up there otherwise.

Mick and Caspian are already in the room, but I balk when I see what they’re doing.

Caspian is a blur of quiet competence, setting candles at the corners of the giant rug that lies under the bed. North. East. West. The fourth candle, South, he sets aside.

Mick winds a circle of salt around the edges of the rug, a thin, bright boundary.

Alister moves past me. He goes to the hearth and gathers the rest of the items, including a large glass bowl full of water and the last candle. Outside, the storm pauses like it’s pressing its ear to the window so it can listen.

“Let’s begin.” Alister holds out his hand and I take it. “Say what I told you out loud.”

My throat works. I broadcast my voice loud and strong. “I’m nineteen today, ready to awaken. I choose this. I choose you. All of you.” I look at them, three handsome men.

“Over here,” Alister tells me. One hand on my elbow, he helps me climb the stool and sit on the foot of the bed with my legs dangling.

The house shifts. Not exactly a creak, but more like it’s settling down to watch.

Mick steps forward with a rock the size of a baseball in his hand.

He squeezes it between strong fingers, and it shatters into fragments.

He swipes the gritty dust over my bare ankles and the bottoms of my feet.

“Earth,” he murmurs, all jokes gone now.

“So you don’t blow off the map.” One of the candles across the room, the one on the North side, ignites with a soft whoosh.

I gasp, shocked since none of us were anywhere close to it.

Caspian steps forward, a feather in his hand. He skims it over the crown of my head. Cool air slides down my spine. “Wind,” he says. “So you can breathe.” The Eastern candle snaps to life. Its tiny flame dances, twisting and twining in an unseen breeze.

Alister is next. He holds the bowl of water out like an offering. “Water, so you can swim back to us.” A cold wet fingertip swipes across my forehead. The third, Western candle flares and rises into flame.

The fourth candle is in Alister’s hands, unlit. He holds it out to me. “You, Madison, are the flame. Ignite the fire so you can awaken.”

I stare at the candle, clueless.

“Concentrate,” Alister tells me. “Command it.”

I put all my focus on the wick. In my mind I whisper, “Light up.”

Nothing happens.

The shame of failure hits me. Eyes burning, prickling with the beginning of tears, I look at Alister. “I don’t think I can.”

“Try again,” he says patiently.

I narrow my focus, glaring at the candle like it’s offended me. Mentally I tell it, “Catch fire.”

Nothing. My lower lip quivers.

“Again,” says Alister more firmly. He glances at the clock on the mantel, and I look too. 11:04 p.m.

I take the candle from his hands and hold it so close it almost brushes my nose. “Fucking stupid candle. Light!” I mentally scream at it…and it does. A tiny flame appears at the tip. It wavers, smokes, then steadies.

“Whoa.” My voice is awed. Part of me didn’t really believe in any of this until that moment.

I dismissed the storm as coincidence, the house as the random creaking of an old building, the men as high-level special effects designed to lure me into a foursome.

But now, staring at the flame I just brought to life, reality comes crashing down.

This is real. This is happening. I’m a witch.

Fuck me.

Mick gently plucks the candle from my numb fingers and puts it in the empty Southern corner of the rug.

Alister strides closer, until he stands between my legs.

I see it happen this time, when his pupils go from blue to black like ink spreading across water.

He looks at me with hunger and his canines elongate, sharpen.

He lifts his hand to his mouth and touches a tooth to the tip of his index finger.

Blood instantly wells. It drips down his hand.

He extends it to me, but Mick is suddenly there.

He catches Alister’s wrist in a tight grip.

“Al.” Mick’s voice is hushed, alarmed. His wide gaze flicks between Alister and me. “Are you sure?”

“I can’t—we can’t—lose her.” Alister pulls from his grasp. This time, Mick doesn’t stop him. Again, Alister holds the bloody finger out to me. “Drink, my witch, and if you call for me, I’ll find you. No matter how far through space or time you travel.”

Gingerly, I extend my neck and touch my tongue to his finger.

The minute I make contact, Alister and I both groan.

I suck the digit deeper and swirl my tongue over it, lapping hungrily because oh my God, it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

His blood isn’t salty. It’s sweet. It’s honey fresh out of the hive, a bowl of sugar cubes during afternoon tea, ice cream on a hot summer day, but a million times better.

I drink it down, sucking and lapping, unaware that Alister has stumbled closer, almost collapsing into me with his eyes closed and a sensual moan on his lips.

Finally, Mick is between us. He places a meaty paw on each of our chests and forcibly pushes us apart.

I jerk back with my chest heaving. It takes a few minutes for the glaze to clear from Alister’s eyes. Precious time we don’t have.

Alister puts space between us, his gaze sweeping over me and then over the other men. “Undress,” he commands.

Perched on the end of the bed, I slide off my clothing while the three men in front of me do the same.

It’s like the slow unveiling of three masterpieces.

Muscled arms, legs, thighs are revealed.

Skin, hair, tattoos. Their cocks spring free, all three of them already hard and swollen in a way that makes my mouth go dry and my pussy clench.

I look them over. Mick is all carved muscle and masculinity.

Alister is lean lines and coiled grace. And Caspian…

he surprises me the most. His body is lithe and pale, but his chest and arms are covered with the most beautiful tattoos I’ve ever seen, swirling faces, flowers, thorns.

It’s like his skin is a canvas and he’s been painted by the most skilled of artists.

Who knew that all of that was hiding under those baggy clothes?

They take a step toward me, but then Mick turns to Alister, his gaze moving with undisguised lust and longing over the vampire’s naked body. With a catch in his voice, Mick cups his hand around the back of Alister’s neck and roughly tugs him closer.

“Alister,” he says in a choked voice. “We’ve missed you, Caspian and me. In our bed, in our lives.” He takes in a shuddering breath like these words cost him something and the back of my throat tightens in sympathy.

“One hundred years you stayed away from us,” he says, anguish dragging down his mouth. “Far too long.”

Alister scrubs a hand over his jaw. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. You know why I left.”

Mick’s voice roughens. “You’re chasing your mate.”

“I can’t shake it,” Alister says. “I feel them out there. Waiting for me. Needing me.”

“We know,” Mick says, swallowing. “We want that for you too. Just…don’t make a century of it next time.”

“We’ll wait for you,” Caspian murmurs. He steps in behind Alister, wraps his arms around his chest, and presses a kiss to his neck.

Alister’s eyes slip closed and a low moan slips out of him. Mick leans in and kisses Alister then, mouth open, tongue moving, with his hand tightly gripping Alister’s hair to hold him in place like he’s scared if he lets go Alister might vanish.

A groan rumbles from Alister like it’s being ripped out without his permission.

The air hums with lust and grief and unresolved feelings.

Mick and Caspian respond to the groan by tightening their grip on Alister. They move more aggressively as Mick drops to Alister’s feet and strokes his hand over Alister’s straining cock. Caspian winds around Alister’s chest like smoke, taking Mick’s place and kissing Alister with passion.

Watching them, three beautiful men give into their desire for each other is turning me on more than I ever would have imagined.

My fingers go to my clit and start to circle at the same time that Mick takes Alister’s considerable length into his mouth.

He slides down, deep throating Alister. I moan at the sight, my fingers moving faster, slipping as I get wet.

There’s the sound of Mick moving up and down on Alister, the slick of me pleasuring myself, and Caspian’s soft needy moans.

Just as our pleasure climbs to its peak, Alister rips his hands down his body, knocking the other men away from him.

“Stop,” his voice rings out. The others shrink back and I see it. Mick may be the werewolf, but Alister is the alpha.

Alister’s eyes narrow on the other two as he snaps out, “This isn’t what we’re here for.” Then they soften. “We can finish this conversation another time, but this night is about Madison.”

Three sets of eyes turn my way, green, brown, and black.

“Sorry,” huffs Mick to me while Caspian bows his head, chastised.

“It’s okay,” I tell them, and I mean it.

All night, I’ve seen the way they care for each other, but with care often comes pain and I can’t imagine how multiplied it is when you’ve lived with other people for hundreds of years.

So much time, so many opportunities to screw up and hurt the ones you love.

If we had more hours tonight, I’d tell them to talk, work it out.

Anyone can see the bond these men share is special.

Something to be treasured, protected. Caspian and Mick both seem relieved that I’m not angry with them. They murmur soft words of thanks.

“Take her hands,” Alister tells the other men who come to each side of me.

I reach for them, partly because I want to offer them comfort. I know they’re hurting. Mick covers my left with his huge hand, and Caspian cups the right like it’s a bird. Alister stands between them, right in front of me.

No one moves for a heartbeat.

Then Alister shocks me by dropping to his knees before me. “Tonight, we worship you.”

The candles answer, small flames bow as if in prayer.

Still holding my hands, Mick and Caspian also go to their knees. Caspian is solemn when he repeats the vow, “Tonight we worship you.” Mick’s voice is raw, thick with emotion as he echoes, “Tonight we worship you.”

They climb onto the bed with me. I scoot back until my head hits the pillows.

Caspian is the first to kiss me, a hesitant brush of his lips to mine, followed by a more confident swipe of his tongue into my mouth.

I sigh, my body lighting up. Mick comes next.

He holds my cheeks in his hands and plunges his tongue into my mouth like a pirate raiding a coastal town.

He tastes like tequila and sin. Alister is the last, a slow lingering kiss where his tongue swirls around mine in a hypnotic rhythm.

As he continues to kiss me, the others touch.

A rough hand I know is Mick caresses my breast, pinches my nipple lightly.

A softer hand, Caspian, strokes up my inner leg and into the apex of my thighs, until he hits my clit and rubs his thumb over it.

My back arches, rises off the bed. Without breaking his mouth from mine, Alister’s hand comes to my other breast and squeezes, kneads.

My brain sparks, sizzles. They’re touching me everywhere and it’s overwhelming in the best way.

Sensation rises, then crashes, and repeats, like a tidal wave.

Caspian’s fingers are replaced by his mouth between my legs.

He licks into me, leisurely strokes of his tongue.

Alister moves his mouth to my nipple which he bites gently, keeping his sharper teeth away from it.

Mick nips at my other breast, sending electricity dancing down my spine.

I thread my fingers through Alister’s and Mick’s hair and press them closer, urging them on.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, my heart hammering so hard I think I might die.

I run my fingernails up and down Alister’s and Mick’s backs as Caspian adds his fingers to his mouth, slipping first one and then two digits into me. The stretch is delicious.

Downstairs, I’d felt guilty, conflicted for wanting all three of them, but here with one on each breast and the third between my legs I let that shame go and embrace the chaotic pleasure they bring to me as they worship my body with hands, fingers, and mouths.

I groan and they answer with their own sighs and gasps.

Pleasure rises in me wave after wave, cresting higher and higher.

Caspian pushes in another finger, shoves deep, and I shatter.

I cry out, my body shuddering through the orgasm, trembling so hard it feels like I might break apart.

The scent of smoke, but sharper and more bitter, hits my nose.

My eyes snap open to see wispy tendrils, black as night, rise like steam from my body.

All three men lift their eyes to watch it float away.