CHAPTER 18
Rue
The next few days pass in a haze of sex and other various debauchery. Every morning I wake up and expect to find the other shoe has dropped, but so far, nothing eventful has happened.
Well, other than me getting bent over and fucked six ways to Sunday all over Slade’s mansion, but that’s a very, very welcome event. I swear my pussy has never been this hexin’ sore, but I can’t get enough.
And neither can they. We’re insatiable.
It’s no wonder wolves normally sequester themselves away after they find their mate.
Somehow Slade has managed to stay on top of things while also finding creative positions to put me in. My favorite is when I sucked him off while he took a video call with some of the vampire lords from surrounding territories. Watching him have to hold it together while I brought him to the brink of pleasure is one of the hottest things I’ve ever done.
And that’s saying something considering Rhys, Kathan, and Caylix have all done equally inventive things with me. My second favorite would probably be getting spit roasted in the kitchen by Kathan and Caylix. The latter of which totally has an ass kink. And I don’t mind it a bit.
They’ve explored every inch of my body and I theirs, yet they still push me to limits I didn’t even know existed. I’ll never get tired of it. And Rhys, holy hex does that shifter have some stamina. He’s also the sweetest when it comes to sex, whispering sweet nothings in my ear while absolutely wrecking me.
Slade’s call with the other vampire lords did reveal some rather concerning things, though. Vampires have always had issues with ferals. It comes with the nature of having a beast inside you, but the problem has escalated so much it’s spreading into other clans. Attacks are almost daily now that the number of vampires turning has skyrocketed. Ferals are rapidly becoming a large-scale problem and no one can figure out why so many are changing.
To top it off, we’re still no closer to finding answers about my blood despite both Slade and the wolves having discreetly put feelers out into the supernatural world. I received a voicemail from Tessa and Darcy who were shocked that I decided to ignore the Witches Council’s summons, but I’m with the others. Something doesn’t feel right about it.
The mysterious woman is still a mystery, and Dar’tha has dropped off the face of the Earth. No one has seen or heard from her in weeks. And apparently, Lance is missing now, too.
Hence why I keep expecting the other shoe to drop any second now.
But I’ll enjoy every second of this peace while it lasts.
The delicious scent of something hearty and savory wafts to me from the kitchen, distracting me from my drawing. As I inhale another lungful of the tantalizing aroma, my mouth waters. Mmm, so that’s what Slade’s been up to. When the wolves were called away to deal with something at The Growl, Slade told me he needed to do something, but he’d be in the kitchen if I needed anything.
While Arya can handle the majority of the day-to-day operations with the business and the pack, sometimes things happen that require the alphas to step in. I don’t mind, to be honest. Besides, I think my poor ole vagina can use a break, anyway. And it’s given me time to allow my mind to wander and create, which is always nice.
Caylix brought up wanting to introduce me to the pack as their mate last night while we were cuddling and basking in our afterglow, and the thought is as sweet as it is intimidating. Slade also wants me to meet his clan, and I want to, but after the fiasco with Veronica, I’m a tad nervous as to what the outcome might be. What if not everyone is receptive to our union?
Slade can’t kill everyone that has an issue with it, right? Although, something tells me he might try. And spell, oh spell, is it kind of hot when he turns murderous on my behalf. But no, these will be my people to lead as well, so I’ll need to win them over. Shouldn’t be a problem with my klutzy charm, right?
After a few more strokes, I run a finger over the paper, admiring my work. Hopefully, Slade will like it, but I’m not ready to show him yet, so I close the notebook.
Sucette stirs from her nap, chittering at me expectantly. Her arms spread before she launches from the desk onto my outstretched palm, nuzzling into me as I bring her up to my chest. Gah, she’s the most adorable creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.
The little sugar glider has taken a liking to me recently, always ending up on my lap or shoulder when I’m not being ravaged by four smokin’ hot men. I haven’t told Slade yet, but I think she might be my familiar. He still hasn’t shared the story of how he ended up with her, but something tells me it would hurt my heart. I’m only glad he took her in and is giving her the care she needs.
When I reach my free hand up to pet her behind her ear in her favorite spot, a zap of magic flies from my fingertip into her, like it was waiting for me to acknowledge the connection between us. For a brief moment, I can sense Sucette’s contentedness over our newfound bond and her need to protect me before it dissipates.
Seems like my magic is on the fritz again. I really wish I had a clue as to why it’s suddenly doing things I’ve never even heard of, almost subconsciously. In all my magical studies, only really powerful witches can practice magic with only thoughts and not the proper spells and herbs. Or those using higher magic.
Sucette sniffs the air like she, too, can smell the delectable aroma coming from whatever Slade’s cooking up. My stomach rumbles and she starts chirping, spinning in a circle as if to say “to the kitchen!”
I place her on my shoulder, following my nose to my vampire lord. I find him behind the stove, an apron slung around his front, stirring a pot of something.
“Mmm, smells divine,” I comment as I waltz into the kitchen.
Sucette flies from my shoulder and onto the counter, batting her eyes at Slade until he huffs and opens the cabinet. He pulls out a container of small insects and she goes wild, happily dancing as he sets a few out for her to munch on. Nothing says love quite like that, even though Slade would never admit to being fond of her.
Once they’re finished with their moment, I wrap my arms around his middle. He hugs me back, pressing a kiss to the mark on my neck. The pot on the stove bubbles and pops like a potion in a cauldron and he turns, setting the burner to low so it can simmer. I pop up onto my tippy toes so I can peek at whatever is in the pot. “Beef stew?” I question, spying the bits of beef and potatoes.
“Boeuf Bourguignon,” he replies, giving it a stir. “It’s very similar to beef stew, but this is an old family recipe.”
“Will it be ready soon? I’m starving,” I ask, and my stomach grumbles as if on cue.
Slade chuckles. “Very soon, ma douce goutte. Just a few more minutes and it’s all yours.”
“Fine,” I huff. “I guess I can wait.” I shoot him a smirk so he knows I’m playing with him.
He grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Next thing I know, he’s spinning me into his arms faster than I can blink. His fangs scrape along my neck, causing my brain to misfire temporarily. Divines, there’s something so sensual about that spot. It’s like all rational thought flies out the window, and smutty thoughts take up residency and occupy the space.
“In the meantime, would you mind if I have a taste?” Slade murmurs against my flesh. He pulls back to look at me, a certain vulnerability in his eyes. “Now that we’re bonded, my body will reject any blood other than yours.”
My eyes widen. “Oh, snapdragons, Slade! When was the last time you fed?” I demand.
“Don’t worry about me, mon trésor. The taste I had of you has been enough to satisfy me this long. I’m only now beginning to feel the telltale signs of hunger.”
My brow dips in confusion. “I thought vampires needed to feed daily?”
“Normally, we do.” He shrugs. “Maybe whatever makes your blood cure ferals is also a type of balm on my normally ravenous hunger. I’m starting to think we might never know.”
You and me both.
“You can always feed from me, Slade,” I tell him, squeezing his bicep. “You never have to ask.”
“Thank you, mon amour,” he says before sinking his fangs into my neck. The initial prick of pain is still there, but it fades to pleasure much faster than the last time he drank from me. Before long, he’s sealing the wound with his tongue. “Je t’aime,” he murmurs, licking his lips.
Ugh, be still my heart. There’s nothing like hearing “I love you” from your significant other in their native tongue. And it’s the perfect opportunity to shine and attempt the French I Googled for this occasion. “Je suis folle par dessus la tête en amour avec toi,“ I reply, hoping I nailed the accent right. Sure, it’s shaky, but I’ve been practicing.
A brilliant smile graces his lips. “I’m head over heels for you, too.” His hand lands on the small of my back, pulling me in until there’s no space left between us. He kisses me deeply, his other hand coming up to cup the back of my head as he tilts me for a better angle. I taste myself—a tangy copper—on his tongue.
Hopefully, it tastes better to him, but I don’t mind. Especially when he’s holding me like I’m the most treasured thing in the world.