Page 79 of Feral Possession

He groaned, his eyes rolling. “You really don’t play fair.” Fangs punched past his lips. “You’ll stop me if I start to slip.” This was said as an order, not a request.

“I’ve got you,” she said in earnest.

He laved her throat with his tongue and pierced her vein. Endorphins hit her bloodstream. Tingles spread throughout her body, taking her higher than she thought possible. Her walls throbbed. Marcus’s thrusts grew frenzied, driving her closer to the brink. His low, predatory growl danced goose bumps down her shoulder to her fingertips.

“Marcus, I’m there. I’m—” Colors exploded in her mind. Her spine arched, her toes curling against the mattress as she screamed her pleasure. Marcus tongued her wound, then threw back his head, roaring. Ecstasy lit his face. His pulsing shaft throbbed against her walls, filling her body and soul.

Spots danced before her eyes until finally, her lungs remembered to expand. Marcus collapsed against her, rolled to his back, and curled her into his side. Dove lay boneless against him, knee tucked over his thigh, hand on his chest.

He stared at the ceiling, his dark brows tightening. She could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. Already, he was overthinking the situation. “That was—”

Dove pressed her fingertips to his lips. “Don’t ruin it. Just stay in the moment with me. Don’t rob the present worrying about tomorrow.”

Their sweat-slicked skin began to cool.

Marcus rolled, looming over her. “What I was about to say is that I demand a rematch. Best two out of three wins.”

Dove grinned. “Game on.”

Twenty

Dove drew her arms over her head, stretching muscles that had been strained in the most delectable ways. It had been like this the past week. She and Marcus spent their days training and their nights tangled up in his sheets. Goddess, but the vampire had some stamina.

She’d never been so content. The once-creepy mansion was now their playground. Marcus practiced hunting her along the darkened hallways. Together, they explored the grounds, chasing fireflies, making love in the greenhouse, cellar, and attic. In their bubble, there was no talk of the future. Both living in the moment.

Life was good in Dove Land.

Though they didn’t discuss the future, Dove couldn’t help but picture them here. Years from now, hand in hand, watching the sunset. Playing in shadows, dancing beneath the stars. Nothing before them but blissful days and endless nights.

She slid her arm across the bed and frowned. The sheets beside her were cool.

“Marcus?” She cracked an eye open, scanning the bedroom.

“This way,” whispered a familiar voice.

Dove stiffened. No. No. No. She drew her pillow over her head. “La la la, can’t hear you.”

“Snakes in the garden,” the voice persisted, speaking to her psyche. Despite the down-filled barrier, Dove’s spiritual antenna was picking up the signal loud and clear.

Ugh. Again with the snakes. Apparently, she’d get no sleep until this was resolved. “I’m coming. I’m coming.” She tossed back the bedding and lowered her feet to the floor.

“This way.”

“Keep your bloomers on. I said I’m coming.” Dove stomped to the discarded nightgown Marcus had flung to the floor in his haste to get her naked. Her lady bits tingled at the memory. She shucked it over her head, grabbed her robe off the chair, and slid it on. Already, this was a tidge awkward given she was sleeping with the spirit’s son. No way she was tromping around in the buff while chasing said ghostie.

Once in the hallway, she picked up the telltale glow of a spiritual entity.

“This way.” Josephine raced ahead of her.

“Hey, wait up.” Dove broke into a trot, just to keep her in sight. Around the next turn, the spirit vanished, gliding right through a wall.

Dove panted, planting her hands on her hips. “Dang it, Josephine. You know I can’t walk through walls.”

Low voices echoed from the end of the hall. From beneath a door shone a dull light, not the supernatural kind. Was Marcus in there? Was that why his mother led her here?

Dove tiptoed to the partially open door and peeked into the crack. Inside, Marcus and Bishop stood behind a long desk. In front of them was a wall covered in pictures with strings pinned this way and that. Dove’s eyes rounded. Helen’s picture was dead center.

She must have gasped without realizing because Bishop appeared at the door. He shoved it wide, eyes narrowing on her. “We’ve got company, Steele.”

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