Page 28

He couldn’t resist thrusting his hips and pressing his steely cock at the apex of her thighs to stroke over her clit. She quaked against him, climaxing the final time.

Michaela’s arms, her willowy, beautiful arms, drifted from his sides as her body went limp.

Amaros wasn’t concerned by her weak, coma-like condition. No. He no longer drank her blood but instead began pouring his serum into her vein.

He still dragged his tongue in erotic patterns along her neck, collecting every drop of the sweet-tart, spiced chocolate goodness of blood. His serum continued to stream from his fangs, flooding her body. Her lax state didn’t change as he lay on the ground with her held in his arms.

But he didn’t expect it to. He’d never transformed a mate, but it was bedtime stories told to his kind from youth—a time that went by in a blink—a way of giving eternal beings hope they would not walk the Earth alone even though it was a rare occurrence.

At the onset, it was the same process it took to make a prime, except more than a drop or two of pure serum would kill a non-mate instantly.

But she was his.

His angel.

So, she would survive the first and second part of the transformation. The latter part of the induction would give her and the little ones a new life. She would remain in stasis until everything that made her human died, and her composition was corrected. Then came the hunger.

That hunger and need would change her forever.

Thump, thump. Michaela’s heart went.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. The little ones’ hearts echoed in an angelic harmony.

Thump...thump... Her heart began to fade.

Thump...thump... The small rhythm faltered.

Thump. She died. They died.

Amaros sighed as he retracted his fangs.

He used the tip of his tongue to brush along the raw, punctured flesh of her skin.

The holes closed instantly, but they didn’t vanish.

No, they would remain as outer evidence of his claim for some time.

One that vampires wouldn’t need to see to know she was his, but he leaned away and enjoyed the sight, nonetheless.

He inhaled, and the sweet spice of her scent lingered. It, like her body, would change soon.

With a determined sigh, he shifted until he could slide one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back. He tucked her close as he rose smoothly to his feet.

The area outside the mouth of the cave and within were both cloaked in darkness as he headed back into the pitch-blackness of the cave's interior. To him, the roughened rock walls were as clear as the sunshine through the caverns. Now that his body was warm from his angel’s blood, he could feel the cool air caressing his skin.

It wasn’t enough to cause him to shiver.

No, he didn’t respond to cold as humans did.

It was more of recognizing the difference in the air around him.

The weight of his angel’s long, lithe form felt magnificent in his arms. It made his slow-beating heart rejoice that he would have her with him for as long as he roamed and even into his vampiric afterlife.

He glanced down at her face, the light brown of her natural tone a ghostly pale but relaxed, at peace.

His hasty steps covered the thirty-plus miles from the opening of the rock wall by the dried-out, old Mackenzie River; he pressed to get his angel home. The river's water was forced to recede into other areas from the massive earthquakes and other natural catastrophes.

Time was of the essence.

As he entered the catacombs, the volume of whispers from the ancients roared around him, assaulted his ears, and pierced his eardrums—everything from gasps of shock to murmurs of confirmation of the prophecy.

Every vampire fantasized about finding their true mate.

A few of the ancients lay in crypts alongside their life love, while most rested alone, having passed through their centuries-long lives as ghost ships on windless seas.

Pride filled Amaros’s body and swelled his chest as he strutted past the tombs of the lonely, knowing he would not be one of them.

He climbed the narrow, stone stairs that would take him to the first level of the abandoned Saint Joseph’s Oratory of Mount Royal, a cathedral, the acquired territory of the vampires—his coven.

They loved elegant and beautiful things; nothing was more breathtaking than a cared-for relic that had survived centuries. Cathedrals were the most precious and maintained of relics. So, what better place for him to refashion for a home for vampires and their servants and prime?

Another debunked myth that humans propagated about his kind was that they were demon-spawned and unholy. Just like the insults about what they could eat, how they died, who could be turned, children, and that blessed, holy water could sear vampire skin—nothing was further from the truth.

It wasn’t meant for humans' small, feeble minds to comprehend vampires’ purpose on Earth.

Amaros opened the door at the top of the stairs.

The sound of music, laughter, and fucking echoed through the high-arched ceiling and the corridors letting him know the naughty game and orgies were still in full swing.

It felt like an eternity had happened in the time he’d stumbled upon his mate, and it had only been a couple of hours.

Not wanting to see anyone or entertain any questions, Amaros closed the door and teleported up the three flights of stairs to the dome of the historic basilica, now his suites.

There had once been a shrine there of the old Saint, but in fear that it might be destroyed or desecrated during one catastrophe or another, the holy men had seen to its relocation.

It did not matter to vampires because they only honored the Great Spirit and the Archangels over them.

He allowed his shoes to strike the marble floor, loving the sound it made vibrating through the arched walls and up the large dome over his bed. He couldn’t wait to hear what she sounded like in the throes of passion, and its timbre resounded in the dome.

As he laid her on his bed, he sat beside her and marveled at the treasure before him. Her short, blonde hair lay tangled and dusty along her forehead and the side of her oval-shaped, pallid, and drawn face. He stared at her filthy gown, swallowing her thin form and the matching tattered slippers.

It had to go. In a flash, he sliced through the cotton with a single nail extended from his finger. He gasped as the cut edges floated to her sides and bared her body beneath.

Glorious from the cinnamon-brown tips of her full breasts to her narrow waist and the flare of her hips.

Hungrily, his gaze caressed the shockingly smooth flesh of her sex.

Certain salon-style treatments were no longer standard luxuries for most humans since they were driven underground.

He wondered how this woman, clothed only in hospital garb but not infected by the sickness, and one whiff had enlightened him on that fact, somehow was bare all over her luscious body except her head and face.

“What happened to you, angel?”

“Why were you beyond the wall?”

The fact that Michaela wouldn’t answer his questions did not concern Amaros.

Just as he knew she wasn’t sick, he knew she’d come from the human compound and not simply wandered away from a preternatural territory. She held no scent of dragon, wolf, bear, or fae.

Whatever the story that brought her to him, he’d discover once she was better.

He cut the sleeves of the short gown and maneuvered the damaged material from under her. He’d trash it, bathe her, and watch her over the next few days.

Until you’re ready to be made mine.

~ YH ~

Damn, she’s beautiful . Aodh kept his mental voice to a whisper, not wanting to awaken the sleeping beauty.

Her long curls fell around her face and the pillow in a dense, dark halo.

His fingers tightened into fists as he thought about the feel of her hair in his hands as he thrust deep inside of her just that morning.

But, hell, that had only been enough to get him through the day.

Half the day, if he were honest, half of his mind had been occupied with ordering himself to stay at work and not leave to seek out his mate, press her against the first available surface, and claim her.

No one would bat an eye if they witnessed him laying her out on one of the tables in the Great Hall during the afternoon meal.

It was true dragons were more discreet in their fucking, taking to shadowed corners or any available alcove or room, but they all understood the need for a Drahk and his pregnant mate.

His desire for Kai had been strong from the moment he came upon her and her sister, but as Kai’s pregnancy increased, so did his sexual hunger.

Her desire should match. However, he’d never known anyone who had a human mate with a child before, so he’d have to check in with Kai as her pregnancy continued to ensure he wasn’t burdening her with his craving for her.

Aodh’s heart constricted as he stared at Kai’s sleeping lush form. She lay snuggled beneath a sheet only. As the pregnancy increased, so did her body's internal temperature, so she didn’t need so many blankets when she slept.

He smiled as he saw the blazing fire in the room’s hearth.

When Kai arrived, the fires in the suite helped keep the chill from the stone structure at bay.

However, he knew that, with Kai’s pregnancy, she was becoming more dragon in a sense, and he used the flames more for the ambiance and the enjoyment of feeling the heat caress the skin.

Even Aodh felt the tension in his shoulders relax as the fire seeped into his skin. If he shifted, the dragon would curl up happily beside it if there was enough room.