Page 9 of Blood Moon Heat

That knowledge empowered me in a way I’d never experienced before. He told me to take what was mine. Then that’s what I’d do. My fangs tingled and my stomach growled as a part of me I’d held back roared forward.

“Mina,” he snapped.

I grabbed his jaw, jerked his head to the side, and struck. Blood instantly flooded my mouth, rich and fragrant, the most delicious blood I’d ever tasted. He grabbed the back of my neck, his fingers curling in, gripping tight. He was going to pull me off him. I snarled before I knew I was doing it, digging my nails into his flesh to hold on, lost to his taste, his scent, becoming the base creature I truly was.

“I’m not going to stop you,” he said roughly. “Drink your fill, little doll.”

I needed more, wanted more. My body was hot and achy. I had to get closer. As if he could read my mind, he shifted me on his lap until I straddled him. It was indecent, but I didn’t care. There was something hard beneath me, and when it made contact with the slick, throbbing part of me, it felt wonderful, and I moaned against his throat.

His hand slid up and down my spine. “That’s it. Use me to slake your needs. Fill your belly and rub that little virgin cunt on me.”

I didn’t know that word, but I didn’t need to in order to understand what it meant. I ground against the hard thing digging into me, chasing the feeling that was building fast inside me, coiling between my thighs and in my lower belly, making my muscles quiver, while I sucked greedily on his vein. It was the same feeling I’d had in the garden when Nero had fed from me, but more intense because I could rub and grind and roll my hips, chasing the pressure I needed.

Then it hit me with force, not a wave this time but a brick wall of pleasure slamming into me. I tore my mouth away, a scream bursting forth as my inner muscles clamped down on nothing, squeezing and clutching desperately. I rode it out, until it finally eased.

Panting, I fell forward, my face against his shoulder.

“Seal your bite,” Nero said, his voice back to a cold void.

I could barely move, but I lifted my hand to the opposite side of his throat and pulled myself closer so I could lazily drag my tongue over the puncture marks I’d made in his skin. The marks vanished, healing almost instantly, not because my saliva was particularly powerful but because he was so old and strong.

He stood then, with me in his arms, and walked to the bed. “Are we going to mate now?” I asked drowsily.

“No.”

He placed me on a bed, the room so dark I couldn’t see much, but I felt him place a blanket over me. I was full and drowsy and content in a way I never had been in my life. Gods, it should be impossible, but I felt close to him. To the male who had tormented me on the eve of my birthday for years.

He headed for the door.

“Nero?”

“Yes?”

“Where are you going?”

“My room.”

Disappointment filled me. “You don’t want to…stay here with me?”

“This is where you belong, Lalka, my little doll. Only you.” Then he walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Three

Mina

My eyes were hot and gritty as I yawned and stretched. I still had on my dress from the ceremony, and my limbs felt all loose, and…mmm…really nice. Rolling to my side, I opened my eyes.

I blinked as my heart slammed so hard into the back of my ribs that my lungs emptied on a sudden burst. No. I shook my head, trying to clear it.

I didn’t understand. Had I dreamed it? All of it?

I shoved back the quilt and lunged from the bed. Sprinting to the window, I threw back the curtains and gasped. A cement block wall was several yards from my window. I wasn’t back home. This wasn’t the view from my childhood bedroom.

I turned back, taking in the entire room again, from the sheer pale-pink lace that hung behind the curtains to the cotton candy–colored quilt and throw pillows, to the fluffy fuchsia rug beside the bed—it was the same. It was all the same.

Every piece of furniture: the walnut dresser and side tables. The salmon desk beside the window that matched the walls. The wide pink-and-white striped armchair, the one Nero had sat in last night while I’d fed from him—it was all exactly the same.

I pressed my hand to my stomach when it clenched violently. Oh gods. What the hell was this? Why had Nero done this? I rushed to the door, gripping the handle, turning it, yanking it, but it was locked. I was locked in.

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