The walls surrounding them misted, creating a blurred kaleidoscope—fragments of images—a moving mosaic of flesh and gold and fire.
Oleg’s body was her personal work of art, long muscled legs rising to tight buttocks, a muscled back, and broad shoulders that flexed as he made love to her.
The collision of visual, elemental, and physical sensation threatened to topple her, and her climax took Tatyana by surprise.
She gasped at the sharp snap of pleasure that coursed through her body and arched her back. She felt the tug of the chains under her breasts, bringing her nipples to newly sensitive peaks as they brushed against her mate’s chest.
The climax went on and on, and she felt Oleg’s hand catch her as she started to lean to the side. She grabbed his shoulders but kept her back straight.
“Crown,” he growled. He didn’t stop moving, but he did reach up and steady the golden crown as he thrust harder.
Floating in the high of her climax, Tatyana was boneless and utterly spent.
Come. Come. Come,she silently begged him.
Oleg gripped her hip with bruising fingers as he climaxed, shouting something in a rough language she didn’t recognize. He clenched his teeth, his fangs piercing his lips as he met her eyes with unspoken desire.
She knew what he wanted.
Tatyana delicately angled her head to the side. “My king.”
He cursed, grabbing her around the waist as he struck her neck with a nearly desperate hunger, his fangs plunging into her vein.
His amnis snapped in her blood and her own fangs fell, but she focused on Oleg, pressing his head harder to her neck as he drank his fill.
She could feel him draining her, but at the same time, his energy fed hers, lifting her even as he drank. It was the closest to intoxication she had felt since losing her mortality.
Her head swam, and she felt dizzy with lust, pleasure, and the aching hunger she felt coming from her mate.
Tatyana leaned her back against the mirrored wall, Oleg’s erection still hard in her body, his chest pressed to hers and his fangs in her neck.
She stroked her hands up and down his back as the fury of his bite eased and his lips turned soft again.
Then he stood straight, his chin tilted back and blood smeared on his lips as he fixed his gaze on her splayed body. He put his wrist to her mouth. “Drink.” His voice was barely human. A growl more than a voice. “I want your fangs.”
Tatyana locked her eyes on his, brushing her lips against his skin before she bit, giving him softness when he clearly anticipated greed.
“Huh.” Oleg let out a hard breath, bracing his arm on the edge of the cabinet as he watched her take his vein with exquisite care.
His brow furrowed in concentration as he watched her, his expression a mosaic of flickering emotions as she took his blood.
Confusion. Wonder. Suspicion. Need.
So much need.
He was her firebird.
Her phoenix.
A king rising from the ash of violence and pain.
A hard king.
But her king.
Tatyana drank down his blood, and Oleg’s energy brushed against hers as if testing its welcome. He was her mate. His amnis lived in her already, but this was something new. Something delicate and warm and gentle.
“Tatyana Vorona.” His voice was barely audible. “What are you doing to me?”
