Page 35

Amari

T his is the sweetest torture I’ve ever known.

I slide a finger inside Carla’s warmth, keeping my tongue working against her clit, and she bucks against me, her thighs trembling.

Her peachy scent overwhelms me—stronger, richer, more intoxicating than ever before.

I could stay here forever, between her thighs, making her come undone over and over again.

“Amari,” she gasps, her voice breaking on my name. “I can’t—it’s too much.”

I look up at her from between her legs, watching each desperate breath, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat.

Those freckles across her nose and cheeks seem to darken with her arousal, and her wild curls are splayed across the pillow.

The sight of her like this—undone, vulnerable, mine—sends a primal surge of possession through me that’s almost painful in its intensity.

“You can, baby girl. One more for me.”

I add a second finger, stretching her, preparing her for what’s to come. Her walls clench around me as I curl my fingers upward, finding that spot that makes her arch off the bed. Every reaction, every gasp, every whimper feeds something primal in me. I’m completely feral for this woman.

Her essence coats my fingers, my tongue, my beard. I’ve tasted the blood of thousands over the centuries, but nothing—nothing—compares to the sweetness of Carla’s arousal. It’s like consuming light itself, bright and pure and life-giving after a millennium of darkness.

“You taste so fucking good,” I growl against her, “sweet and perfect. I could live in this pussy. This beautiful, virgin pussy that’s all mine.”

Her fingers grip my short curls, pulling almost painfully as I work her toward another peak.

She’s so responsive, so perfect. When she comes again, crying out my name, I feel like I’ve conquered the world.

Her juices coat my fingers, and I pull them out slowly, bringing them to my mouth and sucking them clean while she watches through half-lidded eyes.

“I need you,” she whispers, reaching for me.

I shake my head, grinning at her. “Not yet, baby. I want to taste more of you first.”

I dive back between her legs, licking and sucking, thrusting my tongue inside her.

The sounds she makes—half pleasure, half protest—drive me to the edge of madness.

I’ve never wanted anyone like this. Never needed anyone like this.

In over a thousand years of existence, countless women in my bed, and none of them made me feel what Carla does.

Her thighs tremble against my shoulders, her hands alternating between pushing me away and pulling me closer. The heady mixture of her pleasure and helplessness is intoxicating. I want to devour her, consume her, make her a part of me so thoroughly that she’ll never belong to anyone else.

“Mine,” I growl against her flesh. “This pussy is mine. You’re mine, Carla.”

She whimpers, her hips rocking against my face. “Amari, please...”

“I don’t give a damn if I’m fated to someone else,” I tell her, the words spilling out of me like blood from a wound. “I’d kill them just to keep you. If it turns out you’re fated to another man, I’ll tear his heart out just like I did Ackley’s.”

I’m unhinged, consumed by a possessiveness I’ve never felt before.

The thought of another man touching her, tasting her, having her—it makes me want to burn the world to ashes.

In the back of my mind, I know it’s wrong.

Fate’s plan is sacred among our kind. But in this moment, with her scent filling my lungs and her taste on my tongue, I don’t care.

“No one else will ever touch you,” I promise her, placing a kiss against her inner thigh. “No one.”

I flick my tongue against her clit, sucking it between my lips, and she jolts violently, her whole body shaking as another orgasm tears through her. She’s beautiful like this—completely wrecked, her hair wild around her face, her lips swollen from our kisses, her eyes glazed with pleasure.

“No more,” she pleads, “I can’t take any more.”

I climb back onto the bed, positioning myself between her legs.

I stroke my dick, coating it with the wetness from her pussy.

She watches me, her eyes widening slightly at my size.

I lean down, capturing her lips in a deep, hungry kiss.

Her mouth opens to me, her tongue sliding against mine.

I can feel how completely she’s surrendered to me, and it’s the greatest gift I’ve ever been given.

“This is an honor,” I whisper against her lips. “Having you like this. You won’t go a day without knowing how special you are to me, Carla. I’m going to worship you for giving me this.”

“Amari,” she breathes, her voice barely audible.

I position myself at her entrance, pressing just the head of my dick inside. She’s tight—so tight I have to grit my teeth against the pleasure. I know this is her first time, and despite the desire raging through me, I force myself to go slow, to be gentle.

It takes everything in me not to thrust forward, to claim her completely in one savage stroke.

The beast in me wants to mark her, ruin her for anyone else, leave an imprint of myself so deep inside her that she’ll never forget who she belongs to.

But the part of me that adores her, that wants to worship her, holds back the beast.

“Look at me,” I tell her, and those green eyes—those magnificent eyes that first captured me—fix on mine. “I need to know you’re okay.”

She nods, her hands coming up to grip my shoulders. “I want this. I want you.”

I push forward slowly, easing inside her inch by inch. Her body resists at first, then yields to me. A tear escapes the corner of her eye, and I lean down to lick it away, tasting the salt on my tongue.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” I whisper, kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. “So perfect for me.”

I grab her wrists, pulling her hands above her head and pinning them there with one hand.

My other hand cradles her face as I press my forehead against hers.

This doesn’t feel like fucking. I’ve fucked hundreds of women over the centuries, used their bodies for my pleasure and thought nothing of it afterward. This is different. This is making love.

I’m making love to Carla.

When I’m fully seated inside her, I stay still, letting her adjust to my size. Her warmth surrounds me, hot, tight, and perfect.

“You feel like you were made for me,” I tell her, my voice rough with emotion. “Like your body was crafted to fit mine perfectly.”

I release her wrists, moving both hands to cup her face. “You’re so beautiful,” I say, stroking her cheeks with my thumbs. “So perfect. I’m going to keep you forever, Carla. Give you the world. Take care of you and your children.”

I begin to move, slow, shallow thrusts that make her gasp. I’m not going to last long—not with how tight she is, how warm, how perfect. Not with the trust and vulnerability I see in her eyes. It’s been centuries since I’ve come this quickly, but I can already feel the pressure building within me.

Every thrust feels like coming home. Like finding something I’ve been searching for since I first opened my eyes as a vampire.

Each whimper she makes, each flutter of her eyelashes, each subtle shift of her hips to meet mine—it all feels like pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place.

The void that’s been inside me since Granada, since watching my world burn to ash, is filling with her—with Carla’s scent, her warmth, her existence.

Carla closes her eyes and arches her back, her walls clenching around me as she comes again. She moans my name, digging her nails into my back, and I follow her over the edge, my release hitting me like a freight train. I pump into her, filling her with my seed, marking her from the inside out.

I collapse against her, spent but still craving more.

Her arms wrap around me, holding me close as I plant soft kisses against her neck.

The pulse there, the steady rhythm of her blood moving beneath her skin, calls to me.

I want to sink my fangs into her, to taste her essence, to claim her completely.

The urge is almost overwhelming, my fangs extending without conscious thought. I dig my nails into the mattress, fighting against the instinct. My whole body trembles with the effort of restraint.

Feeding and fucking have always been separate pleasures for me, distinct and unconnected. But with Carla, every part of me wants to claim her—with my seed, with my bite, with my very soul if I could give it to her.

But then Carla surprises me, tilting her head back with me still inside her. “It’s okay,” she whispers, wrapping her hand around my neck and pulling me down. “Bite me, Amari. Claim me.”

I lose all control at her words. My fangs pierce her neck, and her blood—sweet, perfect, peachy—floods my mouth.

My dick hardens again inside her, and I begin to move, thrusting into her as I drink deeply.

This isn’t an ordinary feed. This is a claiming.

I’m claiming Carla as mine, marking her for any supernatural to see.

She whimpers as I rock hard against her, pumping in and out while drinking from her.

When I pull back, I swipe my tongue over the wound—something I’ve never done before, a gesture of tenderness I’ve never felt compelled to offer any other woman.

I come again, filling her a second time, overwhelmed by the connection between us.

In the back of my mind, I know what this means. I’ve just claimed her like a fated mate, even though my heart doesn’t beat for her. I’ve broken Fate’s laws, spat in the face of sacred tradition. And I don’t care. I’ll break every law, fight every god, challenge Fate herself to keep Carla with me.

I pull back to look into her eyes, which are heavy-lidded and dazed. She reaches up with weak fingers to touch my lips, smiling as another tear escapes. I pull out of her and sit up, pulling her with me, suddenly afraid I’ve been too rough.