Feral Darlings

Chapter Ten

Paloma

I hate how much I love the way he looks right now, standing in the middle of my favorite room in the brothel, drenched in blood and surrounded by dead vampires. That he killed. For me. Because they touched me, looked at me. The way he ripped their heads from their bodies with such ease, ending their lives in the blink of an eye, has me hot again between my thighs, my clit throbbing as he just stands there and smiles.

Proud.

There ’ s a war between my body and my brain. I ’ m angry, livid that he ’ s come back and claimed me in this way. But I ’ m also still in love with the man I married, and yes, even the man that stands in front of me now. Who I am now is different from who I was a century ago. All the things that made me hate him back then are things that are lighting that fire inside of me now.

I stalk toward him, my heart thrumming in my chest like a wild bird. The rage and arousal mix into a potent cocktail that takes over all of my good senses. He takes a drag from the cigarette as I approach, his eyes lighting up at whatever he sees in mine. The smoke blows in my direction as he holds the cigarette out toward me, offering me a drag.

Instead, I slap him. My palm connects with his cheek with a crack that echoes through the room. Droplets of blood spray outward from the contact, and as he turns back to look at me, he sticks out his tongue and puts the cigarette out without flinching. A show of just how little pain he feels—how little my slap affected him. He flicks it to the side and then takes the hand I used into his own, running the tips of his fingers over the blood on my palm.

He looks at me from under his pretty lashes and smirks. “ Have you finished throwing your fit?”

Whatever was holding me back snaps, and I lunge at him. He laughs as we fall to the ground, my arms swinging for purchase. He rolls us with ease, grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head. I am not weak, but his age puts him far ahead of me in strength and quickness. He settles his hips over mine, his thighs pushing mine apart as he presses against me.

He ’ s hard, and my core lights up when he continues to give me the friction I ’ m desperate for. I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him even closer, arching my back as his body sinks onto mine. Emris hovers his mouth over mine, his fangs still out, and then he kisses me. The rage dissipates into full-blown lust and adoration. I give in, kissing him back with all my energy. I have been starved for him, left wanting for a century without anything to soothe the ache.

The blood of every dead vampire around us soaks into my robe and hair, the backs of my arms that are still held above my head. Taking both of my wrists in one hand, he seamlessly moves the other between us, untying his trousers and freeing his cock. With one swift thrust, he ’ s inside me, stretching me to the point of pain before my body heals and adjusts.

I cry out, but he keeps his mouth on mine, his tongue sweeping against mine as he fucks my mouth just as he fucks my cunt. It is slow, deep, and delicious. Every nerve ending is lit like a match as he fucks me into the bloody carpet, the bodies of those he killed littered around us like celebratory confetti. A celebration of us coming back together after so long apart.

“ Emris,” I whisper when he abandons my mouth to kiss and nip at my throat.

“ Yes, my love. My sweet little dove. My wife.” He kisses me over and over again, saying sweet nothings against my skin until he finds my mouth again. “ Tell me you missed me.” His voice cracks with emotion. “ Tell me you love me, Paloma. Tell me.”

He thrusts into me with brutal force, my body trembling with each one. “ I missed you,” I admit to him, the truth causing a sob to wrack my chest. “ I love you.”

“ That ’ s my girl.” He sinks his teeth into the soft spot where my neck meets my shoulder and sucks. Sweet, potent venom sends me soaring toward my release, Emris ’ name on my lips the entire time.

As I clench and pulse around him, he reaches his own finish. His hips still for a moment, and then he ’ s moving again, slipping out of me before kissing and licking his way down my body. He bites each nipple, my stomach, my hips. And then his mouth is on my sex, his tongue lapping at the evidence of our mutual release.

I whimper, his tongue quickly working me back up. But he isn ’ t satisfied. His fangs tease me at first and then sink into me with a sharp sting. He sucks, and because of the way he ’ s feeding from me, he drinks my blood as he sucks and flicks at my clit. The pleasure is inescapable. It ’ s too intense. My spine stiffens, and my thighs clench around his head. If he were human, I would have killed him by now.

The heat burns through my body, all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes, and then coalesces right where his tongue rolls over that sensitive bundle of nerves. My orgasm hits me like a tidal wave. My back arches off the floor, and stars explode behind my eyelids. His laughter rumbles through me as he detaches his fangs and crawls back up my body.

We ’ re both panting, covered in blood, and absolutely spent. An exhausted laugh escapes me, and I roll onto my side as I tuck into him. His fingers play gently with my blood-soaked curls, and he kisses me gently on my forehead.

“ It feels good to have you in my arms once more, my love.” The softness in his voice is something reserved only for me, and the butterflies in my stomach flutter again for the first time since he left.

We are surrounded by dead patrons, and he has caused a mess that will take thousands of dollars to clean up. I will need to think of a way to spin this in our favor to make sure that this doesn ’ t hurt business but improves it instead. But right now, none of that really matters.

Because I have my husband back.

“ It feels good to be held again,” I tell him as I take in the features of his blood-stained face. I run my fingers through his unruly hair and then tug him down to my mouth for another heated kiss.

“ Never banish me again,” he groans as I tug on his bottom lip.

I laugh into his mouth. “ Never, husband,” I promise. “ Never again.”