Chapter One #2
I shift around awkwardly and clear my throat. “Well, um, you don’t actually, like, take care of me very much, do you? Not like Zara does, or the way Lucius takes care of all of us, or the way even Max is trying to. You don’t act like you’re really my alpha.”
“Be more specific,” he snaps.
I can’t believe he’s dragging me through all this.
But, then again, he’s Vasili.
Resigned, I hike up my hypothetical britches and wade in. “You don’t, like, tend my mating bite—”
“Because you won’t let me near it.”
I rush past that observation, because it’s actually accurate, and he sounds acidic. Like maybe it bothers him. “And you definitely haven’t been, you know, fucking me. Not since that first time—”
“Because you won’t let me near you. ”
“That’s because I don’t trust you.” I heave another sigh. This conversation really is pointless. We’ll never be more than frenemies. Still, I can’t seem to bottle up the rest. “Jesus, V, get a clue. Did you, or did you not, literally just bully me for the past three years?”
“Two and a half,” he parries, whiplash-fast. “But who’s counting?”
“Felt like ten to me,” I mutter. Guess I do still resent him for it. “Dickhead.”
He tilts his head and taps a mocking finger against the smooth plane of his cheek. “Let’s just see if I’ve captured the gist of your grievance, shall we?”
“Look, man, just forget—”
“I’m not tending that pretty bite I’ve given you to claim your delectably buff body, because you won’t let me anywhere near it. And I’m not tending your perfectly snug and insatiable little hole because you won’t let me anywhere near that either.”
“Uh…” Suddenly, somehow, I’m the bad guy. I feel like I should say something in my own defense. But hearing him talk about my hole that way pretty much leaves me speechless.
Inside, you know, back there? That exact same hole flutters and squeezes.
Like I’m just waiting for him to fill me.
“Which means ,” he says ruthlessly, “in order to behave properly as your alpha, darling, I’d have to ignore your modest objections to my horrible attentions and simply take whatever I want from you, whenever and wherever and however I care to take it.”
Is that what it means? I can hardly breathe, much less think.
His voice deepens to a velvet purr. “Tell me the truth now, do… if you dare. Is that sort of behavior something you’d enjoy?”
“Well, gosh, I mean, like, no.” My face is on fire and the words trip over each other in their rush to exit my mouth. “No! Obviously no.”
“Hmmmm.” He hums and muses for what feels like hours. Because I’m twisting in the wind, of course that snake’s enjoying himself. “Neo Mercury. First Boy on the Dean’s List. I do believe you’re blushing.”
“I’m—it’s—hot in here—”
“And, I must say, that sounds like a very formulaic protest. One that’s meant to be overcome.”
Of course, that observation only makes me blush worse. I’m fiery blushing, it’s the curse of being a natural redhead, even though lately I dye my hair purple. And I hate that I want him so much, I hate it.
But I can’t help it.
The truth is, I wanted him way before I asked him to bite me.
Still, you can’t just give in to the guy, he’s Vasili. You have to push back or you’ll be, like, consumed and devoured.
So I persevere. “Listen, V, there’s nothing formulaic about—”
My chest locks up tight. My indignant protest chokes off like he’s twisted a spigot. That telekinetic fist of Mogadon witchcraft clamps around my body, way harder this time than before. My adrenaline spurts and my heart leapfrogs in alarm.
“Hey!” I wheeze. “Cut it out. I mean it—”
Vasili flicks a casual hand. His witchcraft hurls me off my feet and flings me back six feet to slam against the wall.
Hard enough to bruise my butt.
“Ow.” Outraged, I scowl at him through the mop of wet curls that’s fallen over my eyes. Of course he’s all blurry now, because I’m really nearsighted when I’m not wearing my glasses.
“Thank you for literally just proving my whole point,” I say sullenly. “You’re such a jerk.”
He floats toward me (literally), levitating a few inches off the ground for effect. Because he’s multitalented, he’s telekinetic and a shifter and he levitates.
Plus he’s a total show-off.
“You imply you can’t bring yourself to trust me…” Vasili muses. “And truly, who could blame you?”
“Exactly,” I mutter.
His slim body sharpens into focus, hovering maybe three feet in front of where he has me pinned to the wall like a butterfly in a display case.
“You certainly want me.” His gaze drops to my now blatantly obvious boner, because my hands are totally pinned to the wall.
In the shadows, his delicate face turns all hard and predatory.
“For some reason, I fancied that deferring to your wishes and indulging your virginal First Boy modesty would persuade you… in time… to trust me. Now it appears I’ve been mistaken.
” He chuffs out a snort. “Which certainly isn’t a common occurrence. ”
I glare at him. “Well, believe it or not, Vasili, it happens.”
“Rarely.” He hums. “I blame you , of course, for distracting me with all that delicious bookworm innocence. My nefarious plot to win your trust seems to have gone disastrously awry.”
“Ya think?” I mutter.
Gosh, now I’m embarrassed, which is like a natural reaction when your frenemy uses a tone like that and talks about your virginal modesty and delicious innocence while staring at your dick.
I’m embarrassed and resentful as heck.
He’s still not letting me move, so snark is my only recourse. My own Kryll witchcraft is alchemy and earthquakes, both useless in a situation like this.
He glides closer, still levitating, bare feet barely skimming the tiles.
That means I have to tilt my head way back, which he deigns to allow, so I can hold his stare.
His lips part so just the tips of his sexy fangs are showing—which is a permanent part-shifter Vasili thing he’s self-conscious about and usually tries to hide.
His potent scent of caramel and musk twines through my senses and makes my head spin.
That’s his mating scent. Here in the witching world, the Mogadon are a scenting race.
Now he’s scenting me .
His hand floats up to graze my cheek. I’m all stubbly because I haven’t shaved, so my cheek rasps against his palm.
Despite everything I’m feeling, that jumbled-up knot of resentment and fear and arousal and hope that tangles my tongue and snarls my thoughts, my head turns on its own to push my hot face into his cool palm.
He’s my alpha.
He’s scenting me to claim me.
And just the smell of him, when I’m drowning this deep in my heat, has my dick dripping and my whole body tingling.
“Vasili…” I breathe in a good whiff of those yummy Mogadon pheromones he’s kicking out.
Gosh, he makes me so hard.
“Neo.” He never says my actual name. The fact that he’s doing it now, in this soft unsnakelike whisper that caresses me like a tongue, makes my heart pound for absolutely no reason.
His cold fingertips graze my earlobe and toy with the silver hoop he put there himself the night he pierced me.
That was the night he shoved down my sweats and got me explosively off, post-piercing, over my own bathroom sink. That hand job was so epic I still relive the whole experience every time I jerk off in the shower.
Now that triggering memory rears up again and arcs straight from my brain to his through our mating bond.
Geez Louise. I barely bite back a moan.
“Hmmmm.” His pale blue eyes narrow.
A sudden frisson of danger shoots down my spine.
“Well.” He smirks. “I certainly didn’t disappoint that night, did I? If you’d prefer that I behave like a brute and simply ravage you against the wall, darling, I can certainly oblige.”
Before I can even react to that idea, his hand snakes between us to close around my aching dick… and squeezes .
Oh. My. God.
Ohmygod. I arch into his grip with a groan I can’t hold back.
His commanding fingers wrap around my pulsing junk. His thumb swipes over the precum that’s drizzling from my slit and smears the moisture over my crown where I’m all swollen and hypersensitive. My hips punch forward to rut into his fist and my dick begs for more.
Lord, he’s gonna do exactly what he’s threatening.
He’s gonna get me off right up against this wall.
He’s gonna jerk me off until he breaks my heat.
And I can’t even decide whether that’s something I should want or encourage or resist. What I want actually doesn’t matter so much, because he’s not exactly asking for my permission.
Still, I know I could say no, if I really wanted.
Still holding me frozen in place, his casting hand—the one he kills with, because he’s a really strong warlock—drifts up. His fisted knuckles skim my jaw and trail down my neck over my racing pulse. Finally, his cool hand grazes the twin punctures of that mating bite he sank into my shoulder.
“V,” I whisper on a tiny puff of breath that’s almost a plea.
It’s too much sensory overload at once. The slow rhythmic knead of his free hand teasing my dick. Coupled with the tender way his deadly casting hand is teasing my bite.
Wow.
His touch feels so good there, so soothing against those tiny swollen wounds that have been so slow to heal without his care.
Even though Zara and Lucius have both been tending my bite so carefully, licking me to heal me with the biochemicals in their own shifter saliva.
Max wants to tend me too, I think, despite still being the new guy in our harem, because he’s pure dragon shifter and he operates on pure alpha instinct. (Which causes a lot of problems.)
But the dynamic between him and Vasili is electric, and technically V’s my alpha, and since Max doesn’t want to trigger him—
V’s soft snarl sends a tingle of danger shooting down my spine. He abandons my throbbing junk so fast I want to howl in protest.
“At least do me the common courtesy, as your alpha, of not thinking about that fucking dragon while I’m touching you,” he snaps. “Particularly when I’m jerking you off, for fuck’s sake.”