Page 78 of Soulmates
Somehow, they’re both undressed, and Trajan is behind Connor and bending him forward which folds me tighter and then they’re both thrusting and I’m clawing at the sheets. My body is an instrument of pleasure, tuned to the phouka’s thrust, the vampire’s drive. I’m barely holding off my climax when Trajan cries out, buried deep in Connor’s body.
We all pause until Trajan climbs up the bed and stretches out next to me. Connor begins thrusting again, wrapping his hand around mine so we’re stroking my cock together. He smiles down at me, sweat on his brow. Trajan traces a line on my neck with his fingertip, from my ear to my notch at the base of my throat. First his finger, and then his tongue, following the track of my pulse. For a flash I’m distracted.What is he…?Connor begins thrusting wildly, no rhythm, all animal need, and I lose what’s left of my control.
My climax breaks over me like a cresting wave and in that moment, Trajan bites.
I scream.
Pleasure takes me to a place beyond anything in my experience. All I can do is ride it out.
Ride it out, stripped bare and held close by the vampire and his phouka mate.
Ride it out and catch a glimpse of home.
Chapter Twenty-Six
WE’VE BEEN HOME a week. To clarify, we’ve spent the last six days at Trajan’s condo in LA, having us a big-time sausage fest. I mean, Trajan has survived without any of that nasty plastic-bag blood. Connor and I are taking turns feeding him, and they’re taking turns fucking me, and none of us are asking any questions. We’ve crossed a line or charted a new course or something. I still have to tiptoe around the crevasse where my pack used to be, but I can speak in complete sentences and haven’t burst into tears in over seventy-two hours.
Small favors, man. Small favors.
When Jacques calls, Connor is trying to walk without his cane. Trajan won the argument; Connor took a nip of vampire blood during a ferocious exchange of bodily fluids—with me in the middle of their supernatural sandwich. His knee is improving, and so, somehow, am I.
“It’ll take me at least an hour to get there,” Trajan says. He sounds apologetic, as if he’s so used to being subservient to whoever this Jacques person is, he must take responsibility for things outside of his control. Like LA traffic. Because nobody controls that shit.
Connor’s near the shoulder-high fireplace partition that separates the dining area from the living room, so he has something to grab if his knee gives way. I’m in lotus pose near the window, pretending to meditate. Trajan hangs up, and Connor and I both look at him like a couple of kids waiting to see what Pops is going to say.
He scrapes back that random clump of hair that’s always hanging in his face and gives us a grim smile. “He wants to meet me at El Caballeros, over on Melrose.”
“What’s up?” Connor poses the question that’s on the tip of my tongue.
“I never know, really. The last time he summoned me like this, it was to tell me I’d be watching a certain werewolf while he was on spring break.”
“So this is all Jacques’s fault.” I stretch my legs out in front of me, shaking my knees out to get the blood flowing.
Trajan shrugged. “Your dad contacted him with the request.”
“Your uncle suggested it.” Connor takes a few steps away from the fireplace. “That was weird enough to bring in the Securitas.”
I remember hearing about the Jacques-to-Brendan link somewhere along the way. Sitting still for a moment, I assess my two closest allies. I have the skeleton of a plan, and this phone call might just be the trigger I need. “I’m coming with you.”
“What? No.” Trajan goes full Italian bodyguard, biceps bulging more fiercely than his frown.
Connor gives a shrug of his own. “If he’s coming, I’m coming.”
“No.”
I glance at Connor. “We’re both totally going.” Ignoring Trajan’s bluster, I stand and stretch to my full five-foot-whatever-inch height. “I haven’t dressed up in way too long.”
Trajan tries to argue, but Connor and I stand united. “Besides,” Connor says, “I haven’t seen Jacques in quite a while. It’ll be good to catch up.”
He gives the impression he wants more than a friendly visit, but things were going my way, so I zip the ol’ lip and switch gears from Zen yoga dude to what-the-hell-will-I-wear?
Which is a hard question, because my luggage seems to have been spread all over the damned place. I’d come to LA with two suitcases and enough makeup and product to last the millennium. Some had gone up in flames in a cabin in the woods, and some ended up at Sheena’s storage locker somewhere. We don’t have time to make a side trip south of the Ten, and whatever is in the small bag I took to DC is so not the image I want to project.
I’m nothing if not resourceful, though. I put on the tightest jeans in the DC bag and then dig through Trajan’s closet, figuring anyone who’s been a vampire since the 1870s has to own something a little outrageous.
Apparently, he had a bohemian phase in the ’60s.
It’s larger than my usual size, but the ivory blouse with a high collar and a spill of ruffles and lace down the front is effing perfect, and when I put on the coolest fur vest EVAH, the look is made. Trajan’s bathroom tastes run cheap, but he does have product, so what I lack in heels, I make up for in hair.Tall…taller…tallest.In the time it takes Trajan and Connor to make themselves presentable, I am transformed.
