Page 86 of Hot Blooded

Amos was troubled by the news, but he wasn’t here for conspiracy theories and politics. They were there for Phillipe.

With a dam’s unnerving omniscience, Etta picked up on his reaction and turned her attention to the other vampire. “What do you think, grandbaby? How’s the cocktail?”

Phillipe looked down at his barely-touched drink, wrinkling his nose. Amos shared the sentiment, though for different reasons. Nothing tasted as good as Tessa, especially not doctored blood bank mixes. For Phillipe, drinking blood in and of itself was a tricky subject. As Markov’s thrall, he’d only ever fed on human blood on his sire’s orders. After Markov’s death, he’d nearly wasted away for his refusal to feed on humans. Now a fully-turned vampire, the compulsion to feed was impossible to resist, and yet the aversion persisted. Amos had half-hoped that the elaborate mixology of a blood cocktail served in high-end glassware would put psychological distance between the cruelties he’d committed against his will and the harmless method he now lived on. It was a vain hope, apparently.

“It’s alright,” Amos told him. “You don’t have to drink it.”

“If you don’t want it, pass it to your grandmama.” Etta held out a hand, and Phillipe passed the glass over without hesitation.

They stayed for a bit longer, talking about lighter topics in which Etta and Fran both tried to draw Phillipe into participating. It was clear, though, that simply being there was occupying a lot of his mental space. Before Phillipe became too overwhelmed, Amos settled the bill, and they went home.

Back at the house, Amos reassured Phillipe that he’d done well. Phillipe offered a faint smile, which was promising, but he was obviously worn out by the outing. He got blood from the fridge and drank it in his usual ascetic, almost masochistic way—fridge-cold and straight out of the bag. Hunger assuaged, he went upstairs, his demeanor making it obvious that he wanted to be by himself.

Tessa and Amos settled in the living room, curled together on the couch as they talked quietly.

“Did we push him too far?” Tessa asked.

Amos didn’t answer her right away, feeling along his bond for a sense of Phillipe’s emotional state. There was weariness, and relief at being home, but no anxiety, no overstimulation.

“No,” he finally answered Tessa. “He’s just tired. He’ll bounce back after a solid daysleep.”

She let out a soft sigh. “Good.”

Amos pulled her closer, pressing his nose against her throat. “Enough about the stray you adopted. I have needs to be seen to, fragile mortal.”

“Amos!” Tessa objected on a laugh. “Don’t call him that! And see to your own needs, you barbarian.”

Amos chuckled darkly as she twisted against him, trying to escape. He flipped her onto her stomach, pinning her to the couch. She continued to struggle, but the scent of her arousal was already perfuming the air.

“Let me go,” she tried to hiss, but it was ruined by a laugh.

“So mouthy,” Amos growled against her ear. “I can fix that.” He covered her mouth with one hand. His other hand went to the hem of her dress, flipping it up to expose her generous ass. She bucked against him, making muffled sounds of objection. His gaze flew quickly to her hands, making certain they were free to snap if she needed to, then back to the lush curves of her backside.

He leaned down again, putting his lips next to her ear. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” he growled. “If you hold still and mind your manners, I’ll only take your blood. But if you keep fighting me, I’ll bury my cock in that sweet little cunt while my fangs are buried in your neck.”

Tessa began to fight him with renewed vigor. A wicked smile curling his lips, Amos set out to make good on his promise. When he’d made her come over and over and over, feeling the delicious grip of her pussy around his cock, he finally let himself go, flooding her with his own shattering release.

Sweaty, gasping, they lay as they’d fallen, Amos’s bulk still half-sprawled over Tessa.

“Amos?” she said muzzily, slowly emerging from the haze of his venom.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I love you. Forever.”

He smiled, pressed his lips to her forehead. “I love you forever.”

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