Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Control is a valuable currency.
ALISTAIR
Staying away while Celine hunts for a celestial gateway is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Her texts and calls have gotten shorter, and her mood has gotten lower—the details she shares sparser by the day.
She’s discouraged. But part of me fears I’m losing her.
I fall asleep each night with aching fangs, the phantom taste of her blood dancing on my tongue. It’s a biological urge—the result of the blood circle—that wakes me, hard as stone, from dreams of hunting her down and devouring her. It’s more than that, too.
I miss her laugh and the ferocious way she tackles problems. I miss staring into her eyes and knowing she’s as much mine as I am hers. The love I have for her is anything but steady or soft. It consumes me, an obsession without end, and I’m uninterested in freeing myself from its influence.
I want her back by my side, shoving me against walls and trying to bend me to her will. The push and pull is everything I’ve ever wanted, and I need her to have the same: even if what she wants is the beating heart ripped straight from my chest.
Luca and Ciprian sense my growing disquiet. They think it’s thirst, offering me their veins constantly. Every morning, while my mouth is full of toothpaste and longing for Celine, they offer. Their knowing looks as they pester me about nutrition are annoying. I’m being coddled.
I would put a stop to it if I weren’t enjoying the attention.
I’d rather die than admit it, but I fear they already know.
“Thirsty today, Ali?” Ciprian shuffles into the bathroom wearing nothing but low-slung gray sweatpants. He pees and flushes, keeping his back to me, before bumping me with his hip as he washes his hands.
“You know that it’s generally considered rude to barge into an already-occupied bathroom to relieve yourself?”
Ciprian scoffs and meets my eyes in the mirror.
He’s already started washing his face, the part of his morning routine that most reminds me of Celine.
Drops of water cling to his sharp cheekbones and spiky eyelashes.
He would be beautiful if he wasn’t staring at me with enough mischief to put me on guard.
“Don’t be so posh, Ali.” He splashes more water on his face. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you avoiding my question.”
“Is he dodging again?” Luca joins us. Closing the door behind him, he heads for the toilet while yawning loudly.
“Careful,” Ciprian warns. “Alistair finds piss offensive today.”
I narrow my eyes. Everyone finds piss offensive. I haven’t cornered the market on hygiene—Ciprian’s moisturizer costs gods know how much.
Luca flushes the toilet and joins us at the sink, waiting for Ciprian to scoot over and give him room to wash his hands. “Are you thirsty?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder at me.
“I’m fine,” I snap. “I’d be better if you both stopped pestering me.”
“You’re in a bad mood.” Ciprian pats his face dry.
Luca nods. “And your eyes are red.”
“You haven’t drunk from either of us in a week.”
“Plus, you’re gnawing on your own toothbrush, Ali.”
Rolling my eyes—which are barely red, bloody idiots—I spit toothpaste into the sink, rinse my mouth out, and ram the toothbrush into the holder. It cracks from the force. Traitorous piece of poorly manufactured garbage; I barely touched it.
Ciprian eyes the cracked toothbrush holder and sighs.
“It’s okay to miss her,” Luca says, rubbing the palm of his hand over his chest.
I hear him. I do. But I don’t miss her. That’s too normal for us. It sounds like something regular people do when their partner goes out of town. Whatever I’m experiencing is far more unstable. “I can handle it,” I insist.
“But you’re feeling . . .”
“Violent,” I bite the word off, letting the syllables snap off my tongue.
“You talked to her last night, didn’t you?” Ciprian grabs his expensive moisturizer and works it into his face. My eyes track the movement, tracing his forearm muscles as they bunch before landing on the pulse in his neck.
Gods, I’ve got to snap out of it. He just washed; the last thing I should be thinking about is making him bloody.
“She sounded sad,” I say. “Like she was trying to keep her spirits up.”
Luca winces. “It’s better when she’s pissed. Sad Celine makes me—”
“Homicidal.” Ciprian slams the moisturizer bottle down on the counter next to the broken toothbrush holder, knocking a piece into the bowl of the sink. He grabs the shard and winces theatrically. “Oops, I’ve cut myself. Oh no.” He looks at me and pouts. “Fix it for me, Ali . . . Please?”
His blood smells rich and spicy, and the bright red dot beading on the tip of his index finger is impossible to ignore. I should hand him a Band-Aid and walk away, but I can’t, because they’re right. I am thirsty, and I crave Ciprian’s blood as much as Celine’s.
My hand darts out, grabbing his wrist and bringing his cut finger to my lips. “You should be more careful.” I lick the wound. “You might hurt yourself.” Drawing his finger into my mouth, I suck gently, barely stifling a moan.
“Why is that so hot?” Luca mutters, hoisting Ciprian onto the bathroom counter, then closing in behind me to force me between Ciprian’s legs. “Go on, Ali. Take a real bite. We all need to let off some steam.”
They planned this. I know when I’m being managed, but Luca sounds almost as desperate as I feel. My heart pumps pure heat, lava replacing the blood in my veins. Suddenly, maintaining my cool isn’t nearly as important as it was a few minutes ago.
Ciprian yanks my shirt off. His chest is warm against mine, and with Luca pressed against my back, I’m surrounded in the best way. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I do need to let off some steam.
“Tell me if I’m too much,” I whisper. “You’ve got to promise me. Both of you. I can’t be the reason you get hurt.” Admitting my worry exposes me, but neither of them makes it a big deal.
“Of course.”
“We’ll tell you. I promise.” Ciprian grabs my face and guides my mouth to his. He smells like the stuff he put on his face, but underneath the mild herbal scent, he smells like himself. And I want more.
My kiss is rough. Challenging. Demanding. I take what I want from him. My tongue plunges into his mouth and calls for his surrender. He doesn’t give it to me. No, he’s determined to tease me instead.
One of his hands drops from my face to my neck, and he uses his grip to tug me away.
Then he kisses Luca over my shoulder, giving him the sweet, submissive kiss he denied me.
I hiss, fury rolling through me. I’m not jealous.
Not exactly. They’re both mine, but I can’t be teased right now. I’m too close to the edge.
My fangs sink into Ciprian’s shoulder, and he twitches against me, his hard cock digging into my belly. I savor the taste of his blood, drop one hand to his lower back, and slide the other inside his sweatpants.
He breaks the kiss with Luca and moans as I roll my thumb over the head of his cock. It doesn’t take long to make him mindless with pleasure. Ciprian sags against my chest, trembling from the dual stimulation of my bite and my touch.
I retract my fangs and lick the bite closed before he can come.
He deserves it for using Luca to taunt me.
Predictably, he doesn’t agree. “Fucking tease!” His voice is raspy. “I was right there.”
“Were you?” I lick my lips. “Maybe you can convince Luca to help you out. It didn’t seem like you needed me.”
Ciprian’s black eyes narrow, but there’s a glint of humor behind his annoyance. He’s not truly mad at me; he’s just frustrated, his hard cock desperate for relief.
Luca runs his hand over my ass. “I can give you both what you need,” he says, nibbling on the side of my neck. “Will you let me?”
With his hand on my ass, there’s no misunderstanding what he’s asking for. I’m not against it. I want Luca to stay as obsessed with me as I am with him.
Ciprian’s black eyes flash. He pulls my pants down and lines my cock up with his, stroking both slowly. “You want him inside you, Ali?”
I swallow and nod, thrusting into the hot tunnel of his hands.
“Yeah?” Luca asks. “No pressure, I promise.”
“I want you,” I say. “But be careful with that piercing of yours.”
He groans. “You’ll love it; I promise.”
Bloody hell, I think I believe him.
“There’s lube under the sink.” Ciprian kisses me again and hooks one hand around Luca’s neck, tugging him down for a kiss, too. For a solid minute, I watch them make out. This time, I’m not jealous. They look good with me in the middle.
I admitted that I felt violent. Told them I was struggling.
They didn’t judge me, and now they’re trying to help.
It’s nice to be heard. Nicer still to not be alone.
For so long, I’ve been the beginning, middle, and end of every aspect of my life and business.
I made decisions by myself for myself. I wasn’t miserable, but the depth of my loneliness . . . I can’t go back there.
I’m so lost in my own head that I don’t notice them break the kiss. Luca reaches into the cabinet below the sink and comes out with a bottle. He flips open the cap, kisses my shoulder, and runs his finger over my ass.
I shudder, and he drapes his left arm over my shoulder, dangling his tattooed wrist and forearm in front of my face. “Have a snack while I get you ready.”
Fangs throbbing, I’m latching on to his arm before I make the conscious decision to do so.
He grinds against my back, then works a finger inside me.
Blood rolls down my throat. Ciprian’s grip on my cock is perfect.
And the mirror reflects it all back to me, fogging around the edges from our combined heat.
I shiver, overstimulated in the best way.
Within a minute, I’m rocking against Luca’s fingers, desperate for more.
He eases inside me, and I’m so lost in sensations, I barely notice the sting. Full. I’ve never been this full. I’m shaking, trembling from cock to fang. It’s all I can do not to shred Luca’s forearm as I squirm.