He pulled out and thrust back in, pushing the breath from her lungs in a strangled cry that had nothing to do with performance.
A sharp, helpless thrill ripped through her, the kind that came from being overwhelmed, from having no room to brace or soften the impact. For a heartbeat, the sensation was so raw and solid shecould forget the stage, the audience. There was only the brutal fullness of him moving inside her.
Her heart thundered, adrenaline and raw need crashing together low in her belly. The brute savagery, the angle, the way she was bent and pinned, turned vulnerability into fuel. His cock thick as her wrist and too long. The punishing rhythm was too much, each thrust driving him deep enough to batter her cervix. His hips snapped forward over and over, the hurt flared hot and bright, a sharp bloom that teetered on the edge — then tipped, the deep ache blurring into ecstasy as he pounded her, holding her down through every buck and writhe, her body pinned, used, the public gaze only heightening the raw surrender. She came unglued beneath him, cries muffled against the table, walls clenching in desperate waves as the pain-pleasure twisted tighter.
Without warning, his fangs pierced the side of her throat above the choker and sank deep into muscle. Venom flooded through her veins like blazing electricity, and the orgasmcocktail cascaded through her like lightning. She shattered, body convulsing in endless, violent spasms, pleasure so intense it bordered on agony. Tears streamed down her face as he held her firm, drinking from her in deep rhythmic pulls that prolonged the bliss into oblivion.
Finally, he slid his fangs from her flesh, licked the holes, and then fucked her inhumanly hard and fast — frenzied thrusts that battered her cervix in delicious agony, her oversensitive walls milking him until he spilled inside her with a low, feral snarl. Then he stepped back, walked to the side of the table to give a tiny, courtly bow, and walked away without a word, leaving her trembling, spent, and dripping, her bound legs barely able to hold her up.
Zander appeared like a shadow, lifting her gently into his arms. He carried her to his table and settled her beside Spence, who lay in similar disarray. Zander kissed her temple, then Spence’s, cool lips lingering with quiet possession.
“Take care of each other,” he said softly before vanishing into the crowd, duty undoubtedly calling.
The two just held each other for long moments, and then Spence sat up and began working on Emmy’s tail, unwrapping the outer layers so the entire thing could come off her legs. When she was free, she sat up and worked on removing his tail.
A costume specialist came as she was finishing, and took both tails along with Emmy’s choker. She offered a ponytail holder, and Emmy thanked her before putting her wet hair into a messy bun on top of her head.
Spence slid off the table to his feet, Emmy followed, and the two walked off the stage and out of the theater together — hand-in-hand, naked and satisfied, looking forward to a hot shower and nourishing food.
The next afternoon, Emmy was at a stopping place in time to eat in the cafeteria before it was time to dress for the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party feeding frenzy.
The cafeteria often planned meals around the daily theme, and she looked forward to seeing what they did with the food. She caught the scent of rich, savory aromas while she was still in the stairwell — gamey moose, buttery mashed potatoes, and possibly turkey, too.
Emmy loaded her plate with what the placard said was shepherd’s pie, but it looked like a fancy dessert.
She’d been right about the turkey, and she grabbed a giant leg by the bone and settled it on her plate. Then a stack of what promised to be rare roast beef tea sandwiches.
And finally, she grabbed a few cucumber sandwiches and some scones for the hell of it.
Rhea motioned her over when she turned to the tables, and she sat beside her.
“Felix is on your other side,” Rhea said. “He ran downstairs to get his battery. Phone’s about to die.”
Emmy laughed. “Oh, no! The horror!”
Everyone laughed, and she smiled at the rest of the table before poking her fork into the pie — and was pleasantly surprised to discover the little sign had been correct. The piping on top was mashed potatoes, not icing, and the inside was full of yummy lamb goodness.
She looked at Felix’s plate and noted ahugemushroom stuffed with … she wasn’t sure what. Veggies and maybe cream cheese, or some kind of cheese. Or was that rice?
Felix returned, and Emmy stood to hug him. He squeezed her back, kissed her cheek, and the two took their seats. Felix settled the battery and phone on the other side of his plate, and dug into his portobello.
Rhea took a huge bite of her turkey leg, chewed and swallowed, and told her, “So, our lucky hare has been living the dream life while you’ve been buried in rabbit DNA.”
Felix flushed, but his grin was pure, unrepentant bliss. “Master Vexare has booked me every day except one for a solid week. And he delivers—” He shivered a full-body ripple of remembered ecstasy. “He’s beyond cruel, and he delivers the mostexquisitepain. There’s no slow build with him. You accept it because there is no choice, and yet, it crashes over you like a wave you never want to end.”
Emmy wanted to hug him all over again, this loyal, playful masochist who’d become a close friend, his joy infectious even when she wanted to be grumpy.
“The other vampires call him Vex,” Rhea said, and Emmy’s eyes went wide.
“Oh. Tall, dark, and handsome while oozing danger?” She turned to Felix. “Fuck, if he’s as cruel as the energy he gives off, then I have to say congratulations, and I’m happy for you.” She shuddered. “Also, better you than me.”
Maren chuckled. “Right there with you, but our boy is smitten.”
“Dude lives in Prague,” Rhea said, “but rumor has it, he petitioned Zander for the right to come to Alaska months ago, and will be arriving in Fairbanks early next year.”
“You think this might turn into something?” Emmy asked Felix.
He blew out a breath. “I’m afraid to hope, and yet I’m kind of desperately doing just that.”
