Before I could recover, he flipped us.
My back hit the mattress, and he hooked my legs over his shoulders. The new angle was devastating. Deeper. Fuller. Every thrust hit places that made me see colors that didn't exist.
“Look at me,” he commanded when my eyes fluttered closed.
I forced them open, meeting his red gaze. His control was slipping. I could see it in the way his fangs had fully extended, the way his hands gripped my thighs just shy of painful, the way his thrusts were becoming irregular.
“Harder,” I gasped.
“I don't want to hurt...”
“Harder.”
He gave me what I asked for. Deep, powerful thrusts that would probably leave me sore tomorrow but felt perfect right now. Each ridge of his cock dragged against oversensitive tissue, building another impossible orgasm. How many was that? I'd lost count.
“Turn over,” he growled.
I did, getting on my hands and knees. He entered me from behind in one smooth thrust, and I screamed into the pillow. This angle was different, hitting new places, the ridges creating new patterns of pleasure.
One hand tangled in my hair, pulling just enough to arch my back. The other slipped between my legs, finding my clit. Thedual stimulation was overwhelming. I was saying his name over and over, a prayer and a plea.
I could feel his fangs grazing my shoulder with each thrust. Not breaking skin, just the promise of it. The threat and temptation of the claiming bite. I'd taken him before. Survived the stretch. But the bite, that was forever.
“Do it,” I gasped as another orgasm built. How was this possible? How was my body capable of this much pleasure? “Bite me.”
He stilled. “Sabine...”
“Make me yours.” I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder. “I want it. I want you. I want to be yours.”
“You don't understand what you're asking. The bond...”
“Is permanent. I know. It'll change me. I know.” I pushed back against him, taking him deeper. “I choose it. I choose you.”
His hand tightened in my hair. His thrusts resumed, harder, faster, desperate. “Mine,” he growled, and it wasn't a question.
“Yours.”
The orgasm that was building felt different. Deeper. Like it started in my bones and radiated outward. Every nerve was firing. Every cell was singing. The ridges of his cock dragged against places that made me see stars, supernovas, entire galaxies being born.
“Now,” I sobbed as I started to shatter. “Please, now...”
His fangs sank deep into the juncture of my neck and shoulder, a searing point of pain and pleasure.
The pain was instant, sharp, real. Then his saliva entered my bloodstream and everything changed. The orgasm that had been building exploded into something beyond physical. I could feel him. Not his body but his presence, his essence, flooding into me through the bite.
The bond snapped into place like a key in a lock, like coming home, like finding a piece of myself I hadn't known was missing.
I was dimly aware of screaming. Of my body convulsing. Of Varrick roaring my name as he found his own release. But it was all distant, unimportant compared to the feeling of being claimed. Being changed. Being his.
Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision. My limbs felt heavy, disconnected. The last thing I heard was Varrick's voice, rough with emotion: “Mine. Finally, completely mine.”
Then nothing.
VARRICK
She looked dead.
That was my first thought as I lifted her unconscious body from the soaked sheets. Her skin had gone pale, almost translucent. The bite mark on her neck was already closing. My saliva accelerating the healing even as it rewrote her DNA. But the twin puncture wounds were deep. Deeper than I'd intended.
