Chapter 27
“You are my mate,” he says again through gritted teeth.
How do I convince him? “We need to get back to your place at The London,” I say. “I’ll show you the portal. It’s how I got to my stepfather’s lair both times.”
“There’s no portal, princess. I have the best security in the country. Do you really think there’d be a portal I don’t know about?”
“Ask Dom then. He saw me disappear into it.”
“The next time I see Dom I’m going to rip his fucking throat out,” he growls.
I take his hand, lead it to my abdomen. “No, you won’t, because he fed your baby, Rogan. Your baby and mine. He craves the blood of his father’s kind, and I fear what may happen to him if he doesn’t get it.”
“He’ll get all he needs from me then.”
I nod. “Thank you. Even though we’re not mates—”
“We are mates, Hannah.” He grips my shoulders, his eyes smoldering. “We’re fucking mates.” His mouth comes down on mine.
I’m powerless to resist him because I want this as much as he does.
Out there somewhere is his true mate—someone who carved out those two vampires’ hearts. Did she have a reason? Or is she simply insane? Or evil?
He rips his mouth from mine, his cock jutting out hard and beautiful. “Take off your clothes,” he commands.
I want to.
God, how I want to.
I want to escape into his magnificent body. Forget about my father’s treachery and my stepfather’s evil threats and disgusting hatred. His manipulation of my mother. Forget that Rogan and I aren’t each other’s destiny, aren’t each other’s mates.
Once more.
Just once more, and then I’ll find the truth.
I’ll find Rogan’s mate.
I strip off my clothes in record time, and within another second, I’m on my back and Rogan is thrusting into me.
Seems all we do is fuck like this now. Raw and feral with no foreplay. How can there be foreplay when we’re constantly in danger?
Are we in danger here?
I wonder for a split second, but then I melt into the joining of our bodies, his cock burning through me, his pelvis hitting my clit with each thrust.
The climax builds within me, each plunge of his cock taking me higher and higher still, until—
I arch into him, writhe with him, scrape my fingernails over his shoulders and draw his wolf blood.
The scent catapults me into an orgasm so intense, snapping my fangs down, that I grab his head—still, he’s thrusting—and bring him to me. Then I sink my teeth into his flesh…and I drink.
I drink for my child.
For myself.
And for Rogan, because even though I know our bond is chemically induced, I can’t deny the reality of it.
Part of Rogan needs to feed me. Needs to feed our child.
He grunts as he plunges into me one last time. “Fuck, princess. God, you feel good. That’s right. You take me. Take from me. Take only from me.”
My pussy is still pulsing when I finally move away from his neck, let the last of his blood slide down my throat. Feed and nourish me. Feed and nourish our child.
He pulls out and lies next to me, one hand over his forehead.
The sun blazes above us, and the grass is soft and cool under my back.
My clothes lie on the grass. I know I should rise. Get dressed. Figure out where to go next.
But for this moment, I let myself imagine the bond between Rogan and me is genuine.
Solid.
Real.
Because I don’t know what I’m going to do without it.