I nodded my head stiffly and pulled the woman’s hair over her shoulder to display the long line of her neck. My fangs were already down.

  Samson, who did not need to ensure he was well prepared for a trip to Álfheimr and could have managed with a drink from the brunette’s wrist, also prepared the woman’s neck to his liking.

  We sat opposite each other, the bed facing the armchair, so when I let my fangs enter the blonde’s neck, Samson was watching. And that meant I was watching when he did the same to the brunette.

  Until recently, I’ve been very circumspect about feeding off Norms. I’ve fed when I’ve needed to, which thankfully can be as little as once a week if I push my luck. But with my Light gone, feeding daily looked like a new norm.

  But I have also never fed willingly in front of another vampire. Group feedings are not something I’ve participated in before. But this was Samson, and although we’d been to hell and were partway back, if there was any vampire I had to do this in front of, it would be him.

  And then the taste of the girl’s blood hit my tongue, and his eyes flashed pure cinnamon.

  Hello, vampire.

  Mine were no doubt a garish red. But the look in Samson’s eyes right then told me he saw something different.

  I inhaled and confirmed the emotion. Or maybe my Dark Shadow did.

  Because it was a mistake. A huge mistake.

  Samson was turned on.

  And instantly I was too.

  Feeding is intimate to a vampire. It can be used as punishment or as reward. It is never simply food. We can make it painful, or we can make it sensual. Or we can glaze the donor to believe absolutely anything at all. We hadn’t needed to make these woman believe something other than what was happening; they were from Gregor’s stock; they understood exactly what they were doing and did it willingly.

  So, when Samson looked at me with that hunger and sexual heat in his eyes and my body responded, we both unfortunately made our donors feel the same desire and attraction too.

  Thank all that is good and holy in the world that we only needed to feed for thirty seconds. But they were the longest thirty seconds I’d ever experienced in my life. Longer even than when I was attacked by Xavier; my Sire.

  I felt hot and achy all over. My nostrils flared with the need to scent Samson’s signature. The part of me that is Hundr needed to scent every single emotion he was feeling. And the fact that I could when I usually couldn’t didn’t even seem a problem right then. I was vampyre, and he was my mate.

  I silently sent a warning to the Dark Shadow to back up the truck a little and give me some space.

  She happily pointed out that it was me and not her feeding me the fantasies running riot inside my head.

  And then it was over and we’d both fed enough; any more and we could have compromised Gregor’s donors and doing that when the Enforcer wanted my head was not wise. Even the Dark Shadow had withdrawn as soon as we’d fed enough; usually, she fights me for more. But not today. Not now when we had danger on our doorstep and Samson sitting on a bed, fed, flushed and turned on.

  I stood, pulling the blonde up with me, helping her to steady herself. I said something that might have been a thank you but could equally have been a get out. And then Samson was standing, the brunette swaying in his light grip. He pushed her toward the blonde, who reached out and wrapped her arms around her companion in a move that was decidedly not platonic, and they both stumbled toward the door.

  I didn’t watch them leave. I was too busy watching Samson.

  Move, I told myself. Retreat! I shouted inside my head. I needed to get out of here, right now.

  I took a step toward the door of the room and then thought better of it and turned toward the bathroom. Samson watched me, breathing too quickly; something that should have set off alarm bells.

  And then I was through the ensuite bathroom’s door and closing it behind me and thinking that had been easier than I had thought.

  I didn’t need this complication. I didn’t need to let him back in so far that he could hurt me all over again. I didn’t need someone else to care about; I already had too many. I was a loner. Marcus had called me that. Lucinda’s guard hitting the nail on the head on that one. I was better off alone.

  Strangely, my Dark Shadow had remained very quiet. Perhaps she didn’t want to influence me on this. I’d like to think she respected me to some degree, but I also knew that if she thought it absolutely necessary to mate, she’d make me do it. A vampire’s number one motto: Survive at all costs. And the Dark Shadow as all vampire. Even with access to my Light.

  I turned the shower on and undressed quickly. I wasn’t sure I could get to sleep feeling so buzzed, but I needed some shuteye before Aliath came back. And I was determined to be prepared for the fucking fairy.

  I stepped under the hot spray, felt my body begin to relax. Then thought to hell with it and swept my hand down over my boob and stomach, seeking some form of relief from what had just happened.

  It was all his fault anyway. He’d come out dressed in only a towel, water glistening on hard pecs. He’d looked at me as though it was my neck he’d been feeding from and not some strangers. He’d filled the room with indulgent chocolate mud cake, for fuck’s sake.

  And OK, that last one might be a bit of a lie; I’d filled the room with a fair amount of it myself.

  My fingers found their goal, and I closed my eyes, tipping my head back and seeking an escape the only way I would allow myself.

  And then those hard pecs I’d just been fantasying about rubbed up against my back, and a large hand wrapped around my body, landing on top of my own and rubbing exactly where I did not want him to be.

  I squeaked. Then started to turn around and lay into him. But Samson’s fangs came down and secured themselves to my shoulder, holding me still as he continued to touch me. My fingers had withdrawn from between my legs, but Samson was more than up to the task of taking over.

  “Samson,” I said, half growl-half moan.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked around the hold he had on my shoulder.

  Yes, I thought.

  No, I corrected, trying unsuccessfully to blame that denial on the Dark Shadow.

  “Just a moment,” Samson whispered against my skin. “Just one moment that does not need to be more. Just this. Now. Post-feeding when the blood is pumping, and your skin is hot, and nothing soothes the ache but this.”

  “Samson,” I said again, but my hips were rocking, my legs had spread, allowing him better access, and my head had fallen back on his shoulder.

  His free hand came around and cupped a breast, his thumb and forefinger playing with the nipple. His other hand, that beautiful appendage, delved in deeper, fingers stroking and rubbing and pumping in.

  I could feel his erection pressing up over my rear. I could feel his hot breath on my wet shoulder, his tongue as he lapped at the little amount of blood that was there. His fangs were still holding me prisoner, but they weren’t what held me in his embrace. I could have broken free, but I didn’t. I sought his touch. I chased the ache with relief. Relief that he could give me. I writhed against him as water fell down on our bodies, making us slick and hot and desperate. He rocked into me as I rocked back, my hands up in his hair, gripping tightly.

  He squeezed my breast, growled against my shoulder, and sought my release with undivided attention. Samson knew my body; he’d played it many, many times before. But this was different. This was electrifying.

  Sex with Samson had been phenomenal. Or so I had thought. But Humans do not feel as vampires do. Vampires have heightened senses. Our pain and pleasure receptors are far more advanced than a normal human being’s. We scent and feel and hear and see with such clarity; nothing can diminish what we experience unless we choose to turn down the dial on our senses.

  For some reason, I chose not to. So, when the orgasm hit, it hit with the power of a tsunami. A rocket ship into space. I’d come many times since being turned; I’d even had a vampire help me. Jett’s attempts had been dominant and aggressive, something I had enjoyed at the time. But we’d both been fully dressed.

  Skin on skin made a difference. But it was more than that, I could admit to myself. It was Samson’s skin on my skin that made all the difference here.

  The orgasm completely blindsided me. My brain fritzed out. I made a sound that I’m not sure I’ve ever made before. My body shook with each new wave as I repeatedly climaxed.

  And this was only a hand job. Imagine what actual sex would be like.

  I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. Damn it.

  I turned around.

  Samson let me. His fangs were still out, but they’d withdrawn from my shoulder the second my feet had metaphorically touched the ground.

  He stared at me. Cinnamon and taupe and chocolate watching me with hunger and desire and lust swirling inside. He licked his lips. I wondered what I tasted like. I remembered exactly what he had tasted like.

  And then he moved. And I had a moment to relive the memory as his lips crashed down on my mouth and my fangs scratched his flesh and blood, a small, minuscule amount touched my tongue, making me growl.

  My back hit the wall of the shower stall. My legs wrapped around Samson’s waist. His hands fisted in my hair and his tongue delved inside. He kissed me like a starving man. I kissed him back as though he were mine.

  And then he shifted his pelvis, adjusted his hold on me and sank himself inside.

  12

  Broken

  Wait. No. This wasn’t meant to happen. I wasn’t meant to let this happen. And then Samson started to rock, and my body reacted the only way it knew how. I rocked back to meet each thrust, seeking further contact, tilting my hips at just the right angle to get his thick, hard cock to hit my g-spot. Again and again and again.

  Game over. I was done. The part of me that is vampire wanted what it wanted and the part of me that is still human - if there even is a part of me that is still human - just went along for the ride.

  And what a ride. He didn’t just fuck me, although the speed and force of each thrust of his cock would have you believe Samson was fucking me into the next town. But no, he also kissed me with such devotion, held me with such surety, and made all manner of desperate and lust-filled sounds.

  Samson made love to me as only a vampire could. Hard, fast, dirty and with such care and attention that I knew he wouldn’t come until I had at least a couple of times.

  The first - or second, depending on how you looked at it and I sure as hell looked at the one he’d given me with his fingers as counting - orgasm made the walls rattle. Or that could have been my scream on release that did it. Samson pulled his mouth off mine and watched me climax, his hips never faltering, his body never slowly, his touch never stopping from seeking more responses.

  I rolled my head back on the shower wall, the water steaming up the stall around us. Samson growled low and then licked up the side of my neck. I tilted my head as if I knew what to do; as if there was no doubt in my mind that I’d let him.

  There should have been. I should have been stopping this. I needed to stop this before something happened that I would regret. I was fairly sure at this juncture that I could no further regret having sex with this man than I could fly. But if sex led to something else, say mating perhaps, then yeah, I would regret it. I wasn’t ready to mate even if my Dark Shadow was.

  But I was ready for another orgasm, and Samson gave it.

  The shout I made this time echoed in the bathroom, sounding as though I repeated it a thousand times. Part of me thought perhaps I had. But even a vampire wasn’t that good.

  Samson was though, I thought deliriously. He’d brought another orgasm on the last, and just as it hit, his head descended, and his lips brushed the skin on the side of my neck, and his fangs slid in.

  He sucked in time to his thrusts. A rhythm that did all manner of sensual things to my body. I pulled him closer, tilted my head further, held his face against my neck as though I was scared he’d pull his fangs out.

  He made a hungry sound and then spun us away from the wall, stepping out of the shower without having to open his eyes. We made it to the bed before he pulled his fangs out, and then we were down on the soft mattress, Samson’s big body above mine as he rocked into me and almost through me, making the bed bounce.

  He rolled us when the headboard banged against the wall, and then stared up at me, naked and wet above him, his eyes taking in every inch as his fingers followed in their path.

  “Ride me, babe,” he said. Sexy Samson was such a turn on.

  I rolled my hips. There was no stopping me now. He’d given me several mind-blowing orgasms. I’d tasted him. He’d tasted me. It was time to rock his world. I writhed above him, lifting my arms above my head, making my breasts bounce. He reached up and cupped them. Squeezed them this side of painful. Growled up at me as his cock thrust hard, hitting a deeper spot. Not quite my g-spot but something almost better. I wanted him deeper. I wanted him all the way inside me. I wanted it all.

  That thought gave me pause, and then Samson tilted his neck in just the right way to make the vein on the side stand out.

  My fangs were down, and my tongue was licking over the spot in the next heartbeat. I tried, halfheartedly to pull back, but I am vampyre, and I take what I want.

  He tasted as I remembered him. But better. Everything was better with his cock filling me up and his scent filling me up and his blood filling me up. Everything.

  I rolled my hips and rode his cock as his blood slipped down my throat and my Sanguis Vitam wrapped around us. His blood life force followed after mine as if it had been waiting for the invitation. And then there was one more thing filling me up, and I knew something had to give, something had to break, a wave cresting or a supernova exploding or an orgasm that rivalled all others.

  I came so hard I couldn’t see, which is saying something for a vampire. And then Samson was shouting my name and thrusting up into me, his hands on my hips, holding me down as he filled me up in yet another way. Our bodies shook as our Sanguis Vitam danced and for a split second, mine wrapped so tightly around his I couldn’t tell where I ended and he started.

  With panted breaths, I collapsed on his chest. Moisture from the shower or our activities slid between us, sending my nerve endings into overdrive. I whimpered.

  “Shhh,” Samson said, stroking my back carefully. “It will ease in a moment.”

  “I feel…”

  “Everything,” he finished for me. “I know. It will ease. Give it time.”

  I breathed through the sensations, so many I couldn’t begin to catalogue them. Samson held me to him, stroked me lightly, and kissed the side of my neck where he had bitten me. Slowly the sensations started to dissipate, and I was left with the warmth of his body, the touch of his fingers and the press of his hard muscles against mine.

  And pine needles and musk all over my body.

  I knew I’d smell like him now, and he’d smell like me, but the scents wouldn’t stay mingled forever. Unless we mated. I wasn’t sure how one did that. It wasn’t simply by having sex; I knew that much. Otherwise, vampires would be a cranky, sex-starved lot. Something else was involved, but I didn’t know what and I didn’t want to ask for fear of him thinking I wanted that.

  Instead, I studied Samson’s pulse on the side of his neck and the two little punctures that showed where my fangs had slid in. I looked at them for a while, waiting for them to heal and disappear.

  They didn’t.

  My stomach dropped.

  I reached up and touched my neck, but the marks where Samson had fed had already gone.

  I pulled back. Samson looked up at me with a carefully neutral face.

  I got up, feeling the loss of him acutely, but desperately needing that space.

  Samson watched me as I stared back at him in horror.

  “What have I done?” I whispered.

  “Nothing I didn’t want you to do,” he said.

  “What?”

  “You gave me your Sigillum.”

  No. No no no no. I shook my head, taking a step back. Samson sat up slowly, possibly scared he’d make me run if he moved any faster.

  I felt like running. Holy shit! I’d marked him. Permanently. How? Why? Oh, fuck-a-duck.

  “I didn’t mean to,” I said, pathetically.

  And Samson shut all the careful neutral down and became simply blank.

  Way to reject someone after you’ve done the nasty.

  I wanted to backpedal. But I really wanted to run.

  I’d marked him. Oh, fuck. Somehow I’d always thought my Sigillum would involve a little Light. But I didn’t have access to my Light, did I? The Dark Shadow did. And she was making it very clear that this was all on me. She was silent, watchful, but separate. More separate from me than she’d ever been. She was distancing herself from all of this, not because she didn’t want it, but because she wanted me to make this decision for myself.

  This was on me. Whether I mated Samson or not. Whether I marked him or not. This was on me.

  Until she saw the need to step in and take matters into her own hands.

  Part of me wanted to be thankful for her tact, for her not interfering. Part of me was fuming that I couldn’t blame this on her. That it was all on me.

  I’d chosen to mark Samson. In the heat of the moment and not aware of what I was doing, I had marked him. But Lucinda had once told me that giving someone your Sigillum was only possible if both parties wanted it. So, somewhere, deep, down inside, I’d wanted to place my mark on the vampire before me.

  I’d done this. I didn’t know how. But at the time, I’d wanted it fiercely.

  I am not a coward. If I fuck up, I own it. But telling Samson that would only send the knife further into his already shattered heart.

  He didn’t so much as show an ounce of hurt, but the Dark Shadow inhaled, and the Dark Shadow made sure I scented what I already knew. White lilies and loose leaf tea. Decaying leaves and grass. And the real whammy; bruised rose petals and overripe summer fruit. Sorrow. Disappointment. And pain.