The fangs cut deeper.
She sucked in air. Her entire shoulder was on fire, but the pain didn’t come close to the need still building in her core. “Fine. In battle, I’ll obey.” It was the only damn word that would satisfy him.
His fangs touched, and he started to pound. Hard, fast, out of control, he thrust into her, forcing her thighs farther apart, holding her exactly where he wanted her.
The chill of the tile beneath her was yet another sensation added to the heated vampire behind her. She pushed back into his demanding thrusts, her body clenching around his. So much. It was too much. There were depths to Talen she hadn’t had a chance to reach yet, but now that she was whole, she’d explore every one of them.
His bite tightened just as he reached around and plucked her clit.
She exploded, shouting his name, her entire body convulsing. As she came, she could swear her entire soul joined in, lighting the room as her mate claimed her once again. He shoved inside her, held tight, and jerked with his own release.
His fangs retracted, and he licked the wound closed.
She went soft with a murmur. “Love you.”
He withdrew and turned her, rolling to stand with her in his arms. “My soul is yours, baby.”
Hmmm. Sounded like the same wavelength. She cuddled into his neck.
He chuckled. “Oh no. No sleeping. The claiming has just begun.”
Chapter 11
The call came in right about dawn. Talen jogged down to a room in the basement of the hotel, his mind clear, his senses on alert. He passed kitchen supplies, a series of storage rooms, and finally reached a small concrete room in the back.
Max stood outside, arms crossed. “They’re inside.”
Talen frowned, and the smell of pickles wafted around. “Pickles?”
Max shrugged. “Storage for food upstairs. Somebody must’ve spilled. The Sandovskys . . .”
“What?” Talen asked.
“Not what I expected.” Max pushed open the door.
Talen strode inside to see a man and a woman standing across a cement room. The guy was well over six feet tall with long blond hair and enough lines at his face to show at least a thousand years of life. The woman, petite and round, had stark white curly hair and soft black eyes. Both obviously full-bred demons. The guy shoved the woman behind him and settled his stance.
Talen kept all expression off his face. “You’re Sandovsky?”
“Yes.” The guy had a slightly Russian accent.
The woman poked her head around the man. “Me too. Sandovsky.” Her voice was low and her tone . . . ironic?
Talen shifted his feet. He’d planned to kill them quickly but hadn’t expected the woman. “You declared war on us.”
The woman slapped the man’s arm and tried—unsuccessfully—to move around him. “I told him it was a bad idea and that we should just have called you. But no. The world is tumultuous and dangerous and we have to be so careful.”
Talen actually agreed with that sentiment.
A rustle sounded behind him, and awareness crashed through him. “Cara.” The guards had obviously not even tried to stop her from following him.
She moved to his side, her eyes tired, her body on alert. “Hello.”
Sandovsky gave a half bow. “Lars Sandovsky and my mate, Fern.”
“Cara and Talen. That’s Max.” Cara settled next to Talen, her gaze thoughtful.
Lars sobered, taking her in. “I apologize for any inconvenience we caused.”
