Chapter 45
Laurent drove into Lily with barely restrained control, watching her face morph with need.
Need for him—for something only he could offer.
Her pulse hammered against his throat. The sound of it was the most beautiful music.
He’d come to know the various notes as well as her scent, allowing him to read her. That was how he knew she was close.
He slowed his movements, pulling out until just the tip of him remained.
“Laurie, please,” she whimpered, fingernails scoring his shoulders hard enough to draw blood. He wanted her to mark him. To claim him.
“This,” he growled against her throat, teeth grazing her pulse point, “is what happens when you risk your life for mine.” He pressed back into her, relishing how her back arched off the bed. “You take exactly what I choose to give you. Take it like the beautiful little flower you are.”
A sob broke free—beautiful and desperate as she pleaded for more.
The punishment was exquisite torture for both of them. Each time he denied her release, his own restraint cracked further. But seeing her like this—flushed, writhing, completely at his mercy—was worth the agony. She was alive. Safe. His to claim.
He’d nearly lost her. The image of that blade piercing her chest made something feral rise in his chest. Never again.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded, stilling inside her when she was trembling on the edge.
“Yours,” she gasped. “Always yours—“
“Again.” His hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back to better expose her throat.
“I’m yours, Laurent. Only yours.” Her voice broke on a sob of frustration.
“Good.” He resumed his pace, slow and controlled. The urge to bite her, to drink from her, was overpowering. He held himself in check, knowing he’d already taken more than he should have.
She’d saved him.
In more ways than one.
His movements began to lose fluidity. He released her hair, only to wrap his fingers around her thigh, better angling her cunt for him to claim.
She threw her head back, letting out a soft moan. “I love you so much—“
“And I love you, little flower,” he growled before finding her lips. The moment his tongue danced with hers, messy and uninhibited, his control snapped. “I love you more than I ever thought possible. More than my own existence.”
She whimpered.
He claimed her brutally, thrusting into her at the pace she craved.
This time, when he felt her sweet scent heighten, when her heart reached the exact tempo that signaled her climax, he didn’t stop.
He drove them both over the edge. She shattered beneath him with a scream of his name, her body clenching around him as he followed her over the edge, pouring himself into her with a roar that shook the windows.
Every contraction of her inner walls milked him, and it was utter bliss.
His mind was a haze of scattered thoughts, but one thing was certain. He couldn’t live without her. Nor would he have to.
Gently, he pulled free and repositioned them on the bed. She curled against him, boneless with exhaustion. “That was… Wow.”
“Did you like your punishment?”
A breathless laugh burst from her chest. “So much I’m considering what other reckless behavior I might get away with, if that is to be my reward.” His warning growl had her laughing. “All right. All right. As long as you promise to give me that, there’s no need for anything dangerous.”
“I’ll give you that whenever you want, ten times a day if you wish. So long as you don’t put yourself in danger again.”
Her expression turned serious. “You were worth saving, Laurie. I would do it again and again if I had to.”
He both hated and loved her admission. There was little he could say, so he pressed their foreheads together, hoping his actions spoke loud enough for the both of them. She hummed, pure contentment in the sound.
He held her close, stroking her hair as sleep eventually claimed her. She needed rest, and he’d kept her from it long enough. It was selfish of him, but he’d needed that. Needed to be inside her, needed her wrapped around his cock, needed their bodies pressed close.
Only once she was fully asleep did he allow himself to process the terror that had gripped him in that courtyard. She was here. She was his. He would ensure it remained so.
He lost track of the minutes as he listened to the steady beat of her heart. A sound he’d long since memorized. One he could recreate in his thoughts whenever he closed his eyes.
Then he extracted himself so as not to disrupt her, dressing in the dim evening light.
The events from that morning felt far away after all that had happened.
Lily had been his chief priority. But now that she was safe and resting, there were other matters to attend to.
Matters that couldn’t wait. He pressed a brief kiss to her forehead, lingering a moment longer simply to gaze at her before he slipped from the room.
Hassan was waiting in the drawing room, a glass of blood-wine in hand. His dark eyes tracked Laurent’s approach. The sight of him there, and not Marco, made his chest seize. “Fuck,” he breathed, pressing a hand over it.
Hassan came to his feet, a question in his gaze.
“She’s resting,” he said before Hassan could ask.
“Good.” Hassan’s jaw tightened. “Final count—seven dead, twelve wounded but healing.”
Laurent nodded. They’d been fortunate, considering. But the losses still sat heavy in his chest. Some, like Marco, he might never fully recover from.
“I suppose it is still too early but…I will require a new second.”
“Laurent,” Hassan warned.
“There is much to be done, and you know as well as I that it’s necessary. Our family’s stability relies on hierarchy.”
“And you’re stating the obvious because…?”
“You know why.”
“No.”
“Hassan.”
“It should be Zola.”
Laurent’s brows rose slightly. “I expected you to be eager for the position. She’s young, don’t you think?”
“She’s brilliant. Besides, the family will expect it.” Hassan swirled his wine thoughtfully. “This isn’t centuries past, Laurent. A female second demonstrates strength, not weakness. Besides, she earned it today—the way she eliminated that Bardanes bitch.”
He considered this. Zola had been magnificent in that courtyard. Lethal when it mattered. Not only that, she really was his favorite. Everyone knew that. Perhaps Hassan was correct about expectations—the family respected her. They would follow her lead without question.
“Fine. I’ll speak with her once she’s recovered. But if she says no…”
“Then I’ll consider it. But only after you’ve offered her the position.”
“Good. What else?”
“As commanded, we captured one of Bardanes’ older children attempting to flee. I have him secured below.”
“Who?” Laurent straightened.
A smug smile pulled at Hassan’s features. “Yergoff.”
“Excellent. Lead the way.”
The basement was stone and shadow. The captured vampire hung from iron chains, his face a mask of defiance. It was impossible to tell his age. He could have been a century old, or ten.”
“Good evening, Yergoff,” he said conversationally, slipping his hands into his pockets.
“Fuck off,” the vampire spat.
“Thought you might like to know that the majority of your family has been eliminated. A shame, certainly. A family like yours—ancient.”
“A shame,” Yergoff scoffed. “You’ve been eager for Val’s death for centuries.”
“True, but I take no pride in putting an end to a great family.”
“Right.”
“I speak the truth. There are so few of our great houses left. It really is a shame. Perhaps the name need not die entirely. You are one of his oldest children, are you not?”
Yergoff huffed, amused. “And what? You’re going to take your sport with me then let me go?”
“I might do just that,” he found himself saying, shocked to hear the words. He wanted to rip this vampires limbs from his body. Wanted to flay the skin from his bones. Soak him in a vat of battery acid. As far as he was concerned, House Bardanes had nearly taken Lily from him.
Only…in the end, it had been Lio who had orchestrated everything. Only, how had he managed it? There hadn’t been time to ask. Not when he was hanging from his chains, delirious from blood loss. Not when he held Val Bardanes’ heart in his hand while Lily nearly died with a knife to her chest.
“I want information,” he said. “How did Lio orchestrate his death?”
Yergoff’s lips pressed into a tight line, eyes blazing with misguided loyalty.
He sighed. “Very well.”
He moved with inhuman speed, sinking fangs into the vampire’s exposed throat. Blood flooded his mouth, but it was the memories he sought. Images flashed behind his closed eyelids—scenes stolen directly from his captive’s mind.
A warehouse. Bardanes pacing while Lio gestured animatedly, outlining his revenge. A coven of witches huddled around a ritual circle, chanting. One—a powerful sorceress—weaving illusion magic around a trembling vampire who bore no resemblance to Lio.
But as the magic took hold, the vampire’s features shifted. Hair changing to match Lio’s golden blond. Build changing. Even scent altering to become an exact replica of Laurent’s progeny.
The glamour was flawless.
He saw it all—the staged confrontation, the death he’d witnessed, Lio’s escape during the chaos. The witches had owed Bardanes an ancient favor. They’d repaid it by orchestrating the most elaborate deception Laurent had encountered in his long years.
He pulled back, wiping blood from his lips. The memories left him cold. He’d been manipulated by his own offspring’s intimate knowledge of his habits and weaknesses.
But it was finished now. Lio was truly dead, along with his conspirators. The threat eliminated.
Yergoff was seething. Even if he let him go, allowed him to rebuild his family’s legacy, the resentment would remain. It would fester until another war broke out. Better to finish them off entirely.
“Kill him,” Laurent instructed Hassan, turning away. He had no patience for another rivalry. Especially not when Lily’s life was his to protect.
Hassan sped forward. The sound of Yergoff’s heart ripped free of his chest followed him up the stairs, back into the main house.
There would be political ramifications from today’s violence. Other houses would demand explanations, reassurances. But that could wait.
He found Lily exactly as he’d left her—curled on her side, dark hair spilling across the pillow. Moonlight painted her skin silver, made her appear ethereal.
He shed his clothes and slipped back into bed. She stirred unconsciously, seeking his warmth. Her hand found his chest, fingers splaying over his heart as she settled against him with a soft sigh.
He didn’t need to sleep, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t lay in bed with her all night, if only to listen to each breath, each beat of her heart. If only to hold her, feel her warmth.
For all the long years of his life, he’d believed himself incapable of the gentleness love required. He’d been content with isolation, ruling with a tight fist, maintaining distance from anything that might prove a weakness.
Lily had changed that. She’d seen past the monster, offered acceptance he’d never thought to deserve. She’d made him want to be better—not merely for her, but for himself.
Holding this brilliant, beautiful creature in his arms, he allowed himself something he’d rarely indulged.
Contentment.
The irony wasn’t lost on him. After centuries of violence and darkness, it was an amplifier with siren blood that had shown him what true power meant. Not through control or intimidation, but through love freely given and fiercely protected.
He pressed his lips to her hair, breathing in her familiar scent. Whatever came next, they would face it together.
It was more than sufficient. It was everything he’d never dared want. And it was only the beginning.