Chapter Fifty
Fox
I follow them all up the stairs to the very top of the Princes’ Tower and into Briony’s room. I’ve been here on occasion, but never with the other three, and I hesitate by the door, still a little unsure.
Beaufort must sense this, because he turns and places his hand on my shoulder.
“You heard Dray,” he said. “What are you waiting for?”
Fate has bound me to Briony, has bound the three of them to her as well. The result: all our fates are locked together. But I’ve always sensed that the Princes are only prepared to tolerate me for Briony’s sake. An impression that’s quashed in the next moment by Beaufort of all people. Those hard, silver eyes of his seem softer these days. Or maybe that’s just seeing the man with our mate and with that little girl. He squeezes my shoulder.
“You’re a part of this, Fox,” he says. “You’re a part of us. A bond brother.”
“I’m a vamp …” I begin, starting to argue with him and then remembering Veronica’s dying words out there among the trees. I considered it nonsense. But now …
Beaufort cocks his head to one side, and Briony emerges from the darkness of the room to stand in front of me too.
“Are you, though, Fox?” she asks, resting her palm above my heart. A heart that’s beating. It’s been beating for days. Steady and sure and constant. She lifts her hand to my face, rests it against my skin; skin that’s warm, not cold.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “As she was dying, Veronica muttered something to me. I dismissed it at the time. I thought it was the ramblings of a dying woman. But now …”
“What did she say?”
“That I’m not vampiric anymore. That I’m mortal.”
“Human,” Briony says.
“Is that possible?” Beaufort asks. His hand remains on my shoulder.
“I never read about it in any book,” I say, “I was never told it was possible by anyone. But so many things have happened that we were told were impossible. Maybe this too.” I peer into her eyes. “It’s because of you, Briony. Your blood running in my veins. Your light chasing away all the darkness, bringing me back to life.”
“But if you’re human now, does that mean you won’t need to feed anymore?” she asks, pouting at the idea.
“I don’t think so. I’m not hungry for it anymore.”
She pouts even harder. I lower my head a little to meet her green gaze.
“I am hungry for other things, though, Miss Storm.”
“Yeah, like what?” Dray calls out eagerly from behind her.
I groan. “So many things.”
“Yeah, Prof,” Dray continues, “but she likes it when you’re specific. She likes it when you say it.”
I raise an eyebrow in question, still staring at my mate. She bites down on her lip and nods. “I do like it,” she admits.
“Then what I want to do, little mate, is share you with these others. I want to have you while they watch. I want to watch while they have you. I want to take you all the ways it’s possible to have a woman. I want to share you, every part of you.”
Her cheeks blossom red. Her pupils dilate. She bites so hard on her lip, the color bleaches for a moment. I am human now and I may have lost this need for feeding and for blood, but I seem to have retained my vampiric sense of smell. Because the aroma of her arousal is strong in my nose. The wolf smells it too and, in the next moment, we’re both on her, stripping the clothes from her body, mouths and hands all over her. I yank at my own clothes too, ripping them away. And then, in the chaos of falling clothes, wet kisses and soft skin, the five of us end up together on her giant bed. All of us naked.
Briony lies in the center of us all. Her long golden hair splayed out around her head like a crown, her skin like moonlight in the darkness. She’s all soft lines, curves, gentle sweeps, tender skin, and soft flesh. A contrast to the four of us – hard, solid, strong.
She’s something none of us can resist. All four of us can’t keep our hands or our mouths from her body. I lie beside her and kiss her breast, sucking on her taut pert nipple, ringing it with my tongue, nibbling it with my teeth. Thorne is kissing her mouth, her jaw, her neck. Dray is buried between her legs. And Beaufort kisses her other breast as his hand tickles across her belly.
If I didn’t know how turned on she was from the little cries and murmurs and gasps she makes, I’d know it from the way she smells. Wet and needy and ready.
Dray slurps between her legs like a wild thing, and I can’t help raise my head and watch him pleasuring our mate, lickingthrough her folds, flicking her sensitive nub, diving his tongue deep inside her. Her skin flushes pink. Her spine arches. She buries her fingers in his long platinum hair. Her eyes flutter open and shut. And the words she’s muttering make no sense at all.
