Page 39 of Fangs & Freaks (Shifters of Myths and Legends #1)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Varys

I watch Warrick lap at Bellonna like a man starved, his lips and tongue working against her with a ferocity that’s almost unsettling. The sound of him sucking her clit echoes in the room, wet and obscene, and Bellonna’s sharp hiss cuts through the air like a whip. That sound sparks something primal in me, a fury that coils tight in my chest. She’s mine. While she might have allowed him to bury his face between her thighs, he’s hurting her—and that is my and Blackwell’s privilege. My jaw clenches as I tap Blackwell’s head, nodding toward Warrick. Blackwell turns, popping off my dick. “I got him.”

But before he can make a move, Bellonna’s voice, low and soft, stops him. “Let him be,” she murmurs, her tone calm but commanding. “He’s been fighting himself for too long. He can’t hurt me.”

Warrick doesn’t miss a beat. He releases her clit just long enough to shove three fingers into her dripping core. The wet, lewd sound of it sends a shiver down my spine, equal parts possessive anger and reluctant arousal. He pulls his fingers out, coated in her blood and arousal, and laps at them hungrily before returning to the source, his mouth devouring her like a predator claiming its prey.

“Good boy,” she purrs, her voice dripping with approval, and I feel a surge of heat, jealousy, and pride all at once. “You’ll fit in just fine.”

I chuckle low, the sound vibrating through the room, a rumble of amusement and warning. “You’re already caught, Warrick. No point in pretending otherwise.”

Bellonna’s gaze locks onto Warrick, full of promise and challenge. There’s something almost tender in the way she watches him, a spark of curiosity tempered by the weight of her power. “Sorry, Bellonna,” Warrick mumbles, pulling back for a brief moment. “I know you like it rough. I was a little overzealous.”

“No need for sorries,” she replies, a sly smile curving her lips. “I’m enjoying myself.”

The tension in the room shifts, growing heavier, darker. Warrick continues to work her over, his lips and tongue relentless, his hunger almost feral. He pulls back again, but this time it’s to sink his fangs into the tender flesh just at her entrance. Bellonna gasps, her head falling back as her hand shoots out to tangle in his hair. She jerks his head up, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“Are you ready to join us?” she asks, her tone deceptively gentle, but the challenge in her eyes is unmistakable. There’s a flicker of hesitation in Warrick’s expression, but it vanishes as quickly as it came.

He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he nods, dropping his head and sinking his teeth into her flesh once more, this time marking her as his. Bellonna tosses her head back and cries out as she comes, grinding against his face as she shatters. Warrick groans, the sound muffled by her thighs, and his hands grip her hips like she’s the only thing anchoring him to this moment.

When the tremors of her release subside, she releases her hold on his hair and wraps a hand around his throat. The air in the room seems to still as her palm begins to glow with a deep, pulsing red light. Warrick sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes widening as the light intensifies. Bellonna’s tongue darts out to wet her lips, and I know what’s coming even before I see it.

When she pulls her hand away, a mark remains, glowing faintly against the pale skin of his throat. It’s the same mark that’s etched into my chest and Blackwell’s, a sign of binding, of belonging. Now, Warrick bears it too. The realization sends a strange mix of emotions surging through me: possessiveness, satisfaction, and a flicker of something I can’t quite name.

Bellonna sits back, her gaze sweeping the room, taking in the three of us. There’s a predatory gleam in her eyes, a sense of triumph that’s impossible to miss. “Now,” she says, her voice soft but carrying an undeniable authority, “you’re mine.”

Warrick’s chest heaves as he catches his breath, his fingers brushing against the mark on his throat. “What does this mean?” he asks, his voice hoarse but steady.

“It means you belong,” Bellonna replies simply, her gaze holding his, “to me. To us. There’s no going back now, Warrick. You’ve crossed the threshold.”

The room falls silent, the weight of her words settling over us like a shroud. Warrick’s eyes flick to me, then to Blackwell, as if searching for confirmation, for reassurance. Blackwell is the first to speak, his voice low and steady. “She’s not lying. This mark… it changes everything. You’re part of this now, whether you like it or not.”

Warrick’s gaze returns to Bellonna, and for a moment, I see a flicker of vulnerability in his expression. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by something harder, more resolute. “Fine,” he says, his tone firm. “But I’m not just going to roll over and submit.”

Bellonna’s smile is sharp, predatory. “Good,” she says, her voice a purr. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

The tension eases slightly, and I find myself leaning back against the headboard, my gaze fixed on Bellonna. There’s something almost surreal about this moment, about the four of us bound together in this strange, otherworldly connection. I can’t help but wonder what it means for the future, for us as individuals and as a unit.

As if sensing my thoughts, Bellonna turns her gaze to me, her crimson eyes softening just slightly. “You’re quiet, Varys,” she says, her tone teasing but with an edge of curiosity. “What’s on your mind?”

I hesitate for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. “Just wondering how we’re supposed to make this work. Four people, four very different… appetites.”

Bellonna’s smile widens, and she leans forward, her hand brushing against my cheek. “We’ll figure it out,” she says softly. “Together.”

Her words linger in the air, heavy with promise and unspoken challenges. I glance at Blackwell, who meets my gaze with a knowing smirk, and then at Warrick, who looks equal parts defiant and intrigued. It’s not a perfect situation, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there’s something about it that feels… right.

For better or worse, we’re in this together. And I have a feeling it’s going to be one hell of a ride.