Page 71 of Monsters in Love: Lost in the Fire

Thorn groans low in his throat as he thrust deeper, harder, and faster than any of the others before him. He buries his face into my neck. His hot breath fans against my now sweat-covered skin.

“Give me your cum, my sweet witch,” he groans against my ear. “Drown me with your passion.”

I arch my back, pushing myself higher on his cocks as wave after wave of orgasm crashes over me. Thorn’s ecstasy echoes through the trees as he comes inside of me at the same time.

He collapses on top of me, breathless and spent. “I love you, Nyx. I’m so in love with you.”

“Does that mean I don’t have to move anytime soon?” I ask.

My mates draw near, making their approach obvious for Thorn.

They all look energized. A golden glow surrounds them. “How come you all look so glowy?”

“Check yourself first, my mate,” Owain says. “You’re just as glowy, perhaps more so.”

I look down at my body and sure enough; I am glowing. Not just that, but where they bit me—the beginnings of the mating marks—have even prettier vines circling around them. “The bond. Our mating bonds are blooming.”

Even as I say it, I know it’s true. The bonds that we seeded are growing within me. Soon, we will be our own circle of power, with no one to tell us different, especially not the council.

“How are you feeling, my love?” Thorn asks.

“I thought I’d be tired, but I’m not. I feel…great.”

“Then that definitely settles it. Our bond is in place, and it can only grow from here.” Thorn kisses me.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Logan tromps over. “If you get more cuddle time with Nyx, then I do, too.”

I laugh. “How about we go back to the cabin, where we can all cuddle in that big bed?”

“Deal!”

They argue over who gets to carry me back, but since both of Thorn’s cocks are firmly inside me, he wins that argument.

I don’t get involved, and let myself be pampered by my bondmates.

Whispers tugme out of my deep sleep.

I am in the middle of my nest, tucked between Logan and Owain. They don’t stir when I sit up among them. Thorn stands with his back to us, arms crossed over his chest. He faces Mordred, who sits at the table, mug in hand.

That they don’t respond to my movements should have been my clue that something is wrong. “Thorn? Mordred? Doyle?”

I run my hands over Logan’s fur. Both he and Owain are hot, their life force intact. My panic is just on this side of manageable, knowing they are still alive.

What magic is this, though?

I extricate myself from my lovers’ hold and step to the three at the table. They too have their life force within them. Doyle doesn’t have the hardened stone skin of his daytime sleep. This is something else.

Come out, come out, little lamb.

That voice. I remember it from before. When the fire wrapped around me in the study.

There is a darkness that swirls around the room as the shadows move in.

When I feel like I am about to drown and I can’t get enough air in a hissing and spitting sound comes from the front of the cabin. There seems to be a scuffle out there, and the sounds remind many of either coyotes fighting a possum. And when suddenly the sounds disappear, the darkness goes away, but my bondmates are still in a suspended animation. I hear a scratching at the door and I go to it.

I have a split second of doubt except the whispers had gone away, and there’s a feeling of warmth.

I open the door and there is a bright white fox sitting on its haunches. I crouch down and it scurries into my arms, its white, fluffy tail soft against my face. It curls itself over and around my neck, like a scarf, before allowing me to cradle it in my arms.

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