Page 23 of Claimed By Her Monsters
“Over here,” Alister tells me. One hand on my elbow, he helps me climb the stool and sit on the foot of the bed with my legs dangling.
The house shifts. Not exactly a creak, but more like it’s settling down to watch.
Mick steps forward with a rock the size of a baseball in his hand. He squeezes it between strong fingers, and it shatters into fragments. He swipes the gritty dust over my bare ankles and the bottoms of my feet. “Earth,” he murmurs, all jokes gone now. “So you don’t blow off the map.” One of the candles across the room, the one on the North side, ignites with a softwhoosh.
I gasp, shocked since none of us were anywhere close to it.
Caspian steps forward, a feather in his hand. He skims it over the crown of my head. Cool air slides down my spine. “Wind,” he says. “So you can breathe.” The Eastern candle snaps to life. Its tiny flame dances, twisting and twining in an unseen breeze.
Alister is next. He holds the bowl of water out like an offering. “Water, so you can swim back to us.” A cold wet fingertip swipes across my forehead. The third, Western candle flares and rises into flame.
The fourth candle is in Alister’s hands, unlit. He holds it out to me. “You, Madison, are the flame. Ignite the fire so you can awaken.”
I stare at the candle, clueless.
“Concentrate,” Alister tells me. “Command it.”
I put all my focus on the wick. In my mind I whisper, “Light up.”
Nothing happens.
The shame of failure hits me. Eyes burning, prickling with the beginning of tears, I look at Alister. “I don’t think I can.”
“Try again,” he says patiently.
I narrow my focus, glaring at the candle like it’s offended me. Mentally I tell it, “Catch fire.”
Nothing. My lower lip quivers.
“Again,” says Alister more firmly. He glances at the clock on the mantel, and I look too. 11:04 p.m.
I take the candle from his hands and hold it so close it almost brushes my nose. “Fucking stupid candle. Light!” I mentally scream at it…and it does. A tiny flame appears at the tip. It wavers, smokes, then steadies.
“Whoa.” My voice is awed. Part of me didn’t really believe inanyof this until that moment. I dismissed the storm as coincidence, the house as the random creaking of an old building, the men as high-level special effects designed to lure me into a foursome. But now, staring at the flame I just brought to life, reality comes crashing down.
This is real. This is happening. I’m a witch.
Fuck me.
Mick gently plucks the candle from my numb fingers and puts it in the empty Southern corner of the rug.
Alister strides closer, until he stands between my legs. I see it happen this time, when his pupils go from blue to black like ink spreading across water. He looks at me with hunger and his canines elongate, sharpen. He lifts his hand to his mouth and touches a tooth to the tip of his index finger. Blood instantly wells. It drips down his hand. He extends it to me, but Mick is suddenly there. He catches Alister’s wrist in a tight grip.
“Al.” Mick’s voice is hushed, alarmed. His wide gaze flicks between Alister and me. “Are you sure?”
“I can’t—we can’t—lose her.” Alister pulls from his grasp. This time, Mick doesn’t stop him. Again, Alister holds the bloody finger out to me. “Drink, my witch, and if you call for me, I’ll find you. No matter how far through space or time you travel.”
Gingerly, I extend my neck and touch my tongue to his finger. The minute I make contact, Alister and I both groan. I suck the digit deeper and swirl my tongue over it, lapping hungrily becauseoh my God, it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. His blood isn’t salty. It’s sweet. It’s honey fresh out of the hive, a bowl of sugar cubes during afternoon tea, ice cream on a hot summer day, but amilliontimes better. I drink it down, sucking and lapping, unaware that Alister has stumbled closer, almost collapsing into me with his eyes closed and a sensual moan on his lips.
Finally, Mick is between us. He places a meaty paw on each of our chests and forcibly pushes us apart.
I jerk back with my chest heaving. It takes a few minutes for the glaze to clear from Alister’s eyes. Precious time we don’t have.
Alister puts space between us, his gaze sweeping over me and then over the other men. “Undress,” he commands.
Perched on the end of the bed, I slide off my clothing while the three men in front of me do the same. It’s like the slow unveiling of three masterpieces. Muscled arms, legs, thighs are revealed. Skin, hair, tattoos. Their cocks spring free, all three of them already hard and swollen in a way that makes my mouth go dry and my pussy clench. I look them over. Mick is all carved muscle and masculinity. Alister is lean lines and coiled grace. And Caspian…he surprises me the most. His body is lithe and pale, but his chest and arms are covered with the most beautiful tattoos I’ve ever seen, swirling faces, flowers, thorns. It’s like his skin is a canvas and he’s been painted by the most skilled of artists. Who knew that all of that was hiding under those baggy clothes?
They take a step toward me, but then Mick turns to Alister, his gaze moving with undisguised lust and longing over the vampire’s naked body. With a catch in his voice, Mick cups his hand around the back of Alister’s neck and roughly tugs him closer.
