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“You taste…” His voice was rough with desire as he pressed his forehead to mine.

“Like moonlight and cherry blossoms. Like spring nights and…” He claimed my mouth again, as if he couldn’t help himself.

One hand slid up my thigh, leaving trails of fire in its wake.

“Like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. Addictive. Dangerous.”

My skin felt like it was burning everywhere he touched. The fever-heat inside me built higher, making me roll my hips against him without thinking. His responding growl vibrated through me as his grip tightened.

“Luca,” he warned, though the way he pressed me harder against the wall suggested he wasn’t really complaining. “You’re making it very hard to be good.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to be good,” I breathed, running my fingers through his silver-white hair. The silky strands felt cool against my too-hot skin. “Maybe I?—”

He cut me off with another devastating kiss, and gods above and blood below, this one was pure alpha possession. I could feel his control fraying with every press of his body against mine, every slide of his tongue.

Eventually, with what looked like herculean effort, Zane set me back on my feet. His hands lingered on my waist as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go, thumbs stroking bare skin where my shirt had twisted. The touch sent another wave of heat through me, making my knees weak.

“Good night,” I managed, breathless and definitely disheveled. My legs felt like jelly as I headed for the stairs, though I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face. Every step made me aware of the lingering ache between my thighs, the way my body hummed with unfulfilled desire.

The elevator dinged, revealing Ryker and Archer just as I reached the middle of the staircase. I turned, throwing them an exaggerated flying kiss and a wicked wink. “Sweet dreams, boys.”

Their combined groans of frustration made me smile. Archer actually took a step forward, his citrus-sunshine scent darkening with intent, but Ryker caught him by the collar. The way they both looked at me—storm-blue and molten silver eyes heavy with want—sent another rush of heat through my core.

“Don’t even think about it,” Ryker warned, though his voice was rough with desire. “Let him go… for now.”

I didn’t wait to see more. I raced up the remaining stairs, their growls of want following me all the way to my room. As I closed the door, I heard Archer’s plaintive voice.

“Are we sure we can’t just?—”

“No,” Zane and Ryker said in unison.

I pressed my forehead against the cool wood of my door, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. What a night. My lips were still tingling from their kisses, my skin humming everywhere they’d touched me.

Sliding down to sit against the door, I touched my fingers to my mouth, remembering. Zane’s commanding kiss, the way he’d lifted me like I weighed nothing. Ryker’s storm-flavored blood, the electricity that had danced between us. Archer’s playful touches that had turned desperate and needy…

The warmth that had been building all evening pulsed through me again, stronger this time. Not just desire—this felt different. Hotter. More intense. Like the fever from earlier but amplified.

I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to steady my breathing. Their scents still clung to my clothes—midnight and starlight, lightning storms, and citrus sunshine. Each inhale made the heat worse, spreading through my veins like liquid fire.

“Okay, this is… new.” My voice sounded breathless even to my own ears.

The ache in my core that had started during our kisses wasn’t fading.

If anything, it was getting stronger, making it hard to think about anything except the way they’d touched me, the taste of their blood, the promises in their eyes…

I needed… something. More. The thought made me whimper. More of their touches, their kisses, their blood. More of everything.

My skin felt too sensitive now, even the silk of my shirt an almost painful sensation. The cool wood of the door against my back wasn’t helping anymore. Nothing was helping.

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes.

But that just brought back flashes of memory—Zane’s silver eyes darkening as he’d pressed me against the car, Ryker’s storm-blue gaze when I’d tasted his blood, Archer’s heated look as his hands had slid under my shirt…

Oh gods above. The fever spiked higher, making me gasp. Every heartbeat seemed to pulse through my entire body, centered on the ache between my thighs. Even my fangs throbbed with need, craving another taste of their blood.

I forced myself to stand on shaky legs, stumbling toward the bathroom. Maybe a cold shower would help? But even walking was torture, each step making me more aware of how empty I felt, how much I needed…

“No,” I told my reflection firmly. “Bad vampire prince. No thinking about what—or who—you need.”

But my reflection didn’t look very convinced. My cheeks were flushed pink, eyes bright with fever and want. The marks they’d left on my neck seemed to pulse in time with my racing heart. Even my skin looked different—almost luminescent, like moonlight had somehow gotten trapped beneath the surface.

The burning need was getting worse. I undid my shirt and pants before turning the shower on cold and stepping under the spray.

The icy water did nothing to calm the fire burning through me.

If anything, the droplets felt like individual points of sensation, making me more aware of my oversensitive skin.

This had to be more than just normal desire. Normal desire didn’t make you feel like you might actually combust. Normal desire didn’t make your skin glow or your fangs ache or your whole body feel like it was trying to crawl out of itself.

I slid down to sit on the shower floor, letting the cold water drum against my back.

Think about something else. Anything else.

Work. Marketing campaigns. Blood bank logistics.

Not the way Zane had growled when I’d bitten him.

Not how Ryker’s lightning had danced across my skin. Not Archer’s wicked promises…

“Focus,” I whispered, but my body wasn’t listening. Every cell seemed attuned to their absence, craving their presence, their touch, their blood. The need was becoming painful now, an actual physical ache that radiated from my core.

I stayed under the cold spray until my skin pruned, but the fever wouldn’t break. If anything, it seemed to be getting worse. Even the air felt too heavy, too hot against my wet skin as I stumbled out of the shower.

The towel felt like sandpaper. I dropped it, unable to stand anything touching me. My reflection caught my eye—skin flushed and glowing with an odd luminescence, eyes too bright, almost fevered.

I collapsed onto my bed, not bothering with clothes.

Even the silk sheets felt abrasive against my hypersensitive skin, but I was too weak to move.

The room spun slightly, making me close my eyes.

Their scents still lingered in my nose—midnight and starlight, lightning storms, citrus sunshine—making the ache inside worse.

My last coherent thought before the fever pulled me under was of their faces—Zane’s silver eyes dark with want, Ryker’s storm-blue gaze promising wicked things, Archer’s playful smirk turned hungry. Then everything faded into a haze of heat and need and desperate wanting…